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ellecdc · 3 months ago

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The Hazards of Hiccoughs

poly!darksun x fem!reader who falls for one of James' pranks by accident

prompts: "anything with dark sun" & "reader gets caught in the crossfire of one of their pranks", scenario by @unstablereader

CW: Barty threatening murder (the usual), descriptions of asthma and asthma attack, reader panics because she can't breathe, hurt/comfort but mostly fluff and humour

One word to describe James Potter would be, without a doubt, brave.

If you asked his friends to find words to describe him, he may get the odd “clever”, “mischievous”, “troublesome”, “annoying git” etcetera; but at the end of the day, no one could deny that James Potter was, in fact, brave.

He was a Gryffindor, afterall.

He spent his spare time flying on an enchanted piece of bark as high as the tallest towers in Hogwarts (and oftentimes then some), and finding many new and creative ways to give his mother a few more grey hairs by performing tricks and stunts at said heights.

He spent an evening every month with the likes of a werewolf, and didn’t even quiver at the prospect of being sent to Azkaban when he became an unregistered animagus.

He’s battled racist gits on the school grounds, found himself facing grounds for detention, suspension, and expulsion all in the name of mischief, and he has made both enemies and the greatest of friendships with the likes of Slytherin’s.

In fact, one of James’ bravest ventures was getting the likes of one Barty Crouch Junior into his bed.

So, yeah….James Potter was brave.

So brave.

Except, maybe not right now.

Except maybe, right now, he was very much decidedly not brave and actually very much afraid.

What was James so afraid of, one might wonder?

Oh, well, you remember that very brave venture James made once upon a brave moment where he won over the affections of one such Barty Crouch Junior?

Yeah, that.

James was afraid of that.

Or, more specifically, James was very much afraid of what Barty was going to do when he found out what James had done (inadvertently!!!) to you.

You see, one of those things James was so well known for? You know? His mischief. Well, he’d had a brilliant pranking idea.

He and Sirius knew that Regulus bought caramel sugar quills every Hogsmeade trip for the Slytherin common room, as it was a crowd favourite.

During one of James and Sirius’ (many) recent detentions, they had the (quite brilliant, if you asked either of them) idea of using the same charm used in hiccough lollies sold at Zonko's on the sugar quills, thus sending the Slytherin gits (affectionate, since one of them was James’ adopted little brother and the other was his boyfriend, and, you know, all of their closest friends) into a hiccoughing fit!

It was hilarious, and James wasn’t ashamed to admit that he and Sirius laughed so hard at the vision of them hiccoughing their way through the castle that they were given another detention for their behaviour during detention.

And it had gone oh so smoothly.

James was often in the Slytherin common room either with or without you on account of both of your relationship with Barty, and was able to place them in their usual spot on a dark stained wooden cabinet beside the fireplace without rousing much suspicion.

It had gone perfectly.

So perfectly, that is, until his poor sweet angel came running to him choking and coughing and wheezing with tear tracks down your pretty face because you had fallen for his (now very obviously) stupid and idiodic prank.

James had been present for a few of your asthma attacks before, but none of them seemed quite as bad as this one. He always had one of your inhalers in his room for emergencies, and you had convinced yourself that the one you had on your person was either faulty or expired, but no sooner would the medication begin to soothe your air-thirsty lungs would you begin hiccoughing again and the cycle would continue.

It didn’t help that you were clearly panicked, and James didn’t think that was completely unreasonable seeing as you couldn’t breathe, so James had worked hard to remain as calm as he possibly could for the both of you.

He’d nicked one of Moony’s calming draught’s for you and brought you and your inhalers up to the top of the astronomy tower for some quiet and fresh air; rubbing circles along your back, taking deep, methodical breaths with you, helping you take another puff when the hiccoughing began to take over, and washed, rinsed, and repeated until the hiccoughing had finally subsided.

You were undoubtedly exhausted after the emotional ordeal, and James opted to bring you down to his dorm so you could sleep it off (and so that he could keep an eye on you).

He watched your form almost obsessively where you were curled up in his bed in one of his quidditch jumpers from his desk chair; watching your chest rise and fall evenly, without restriction as he fought to bring his own panic down.

“Merlin that could have been bad.” Sirius let out with a breath from his own bed, joining James in watching you breathe as if he too needed convincing that you still were.

“Don’t.” James bit out sharply. “Don’t even go there.”

“How’d she even get to them before anyone else did?” He continued, agreeing with James that wondering what might have happened if you hadn’t found James was too scary.

“Because we had the brilliant idea of going during Slytherin's quidditch practice.” James sneered, still never removing his gaze from your chest.

“What are you going to tell Junior?” He asked then, causing James’ stomach to lurch not at all pleasantly.

One of the things James loved so much about Barty was how much he loved. Barty loved everything with all the intensity of a fiendfyre explosion; he dedicated himself mind, body, and soul 110% to those he cherished.

And one thing Barty cherished perhaps most in the whole wide world was you.

“Do I have to tell him?” James groaned then, finally moving his gaze from you to the face of his thoroughly bemused best friend.

“Will she not tell him?”

James responded with a noncommittal sound as Peter walked in the door.

“Tell who what?” He asked as he let his book bag fall to the ground with a thud, earning him a hasty “shhhh” from James and “Tell Barty we almost killed his Treasure” from Sirius.

“Oh, well I just let him into the common room.” Peter offered simply as he laid back casually on his four poster bed.

“You what!?” James beseeched, earning him a hasty “sshhh” from Sirius.

“He said he was coming to find you. Stopped to ask Remus about a book they were talking about last week first.” Peter responded with a shrug.

“No! No. Nonononono.” James began chanting as he took off in a sprint towards the common room.

James nearly ricocheted off of Barty from how fast he’d been going down the stairs that both of them winced as they took the other in.

“Salazar, Jamie. I’m happy to see you too but you didn’t have to tackle me like some muggle American footballer.” He groaned as he massaged his ribs.

“Sorry! Sorry. Hi! Hi, bubs. How are you? How was practice!?” James rapid-fired with faux cheer.

So along with being brave, mischievous, and perhaps more than a little bit afraid of his boyfriend, James was also a terrible liar.

“What’s going on?” Barty asked suspiciously after scanning James’ face for only 0.7 seconds.

“Nothing! What? What do you mean!? Nothing, of course!”

“What did you do?” He deadpanned; his question poised more like a demand of honesty than it was an inquiry.

James forced out his most disbelieving scoff. “Wha- what do you mean? Nothing, of course! Why, why would I have done anything?”

“You’re literally always up to no good which is usually why I like you so much, but this-” Barty paused to wave a hand over James rather generally, “is freaking me out. Spill.”

“Okay, listen, she’s alright, but-”

“Where is she?” Barty demanded - any levity quickly seeping from his face and tone as he stood up straighter.

“I just said she was okay, Barty-”

“Which means she wasn’t okay at some point.”

“There….may have been an incident.” James offered slowly.

“For fucks sa- get out of my way.” Barty grumbled as he shoved his way past James and took the stairs two at a time to get to James’ dorm room.

“How’d he know she was up there?” James wondered aloud, surprised when Remus answered him.

“I told him the two of you were upstairs.” He said as he fell into step with James.

“You told him!?”

Remus rolled his eyes so hard James was actually certain that this would be the time they finally got stuck like that. “Of course I didn’t, you prat. Why would I waste the chance to watch the theatrics.”

James groaned as they rounded the corner to their shared dorm, emotionally (and physically) bracing himself for said theatrics, only to find Barty kneeling on the floor beside James’ bed as he brushed your hair away from your face.

“That must’ve been really scary.” Barty murmured quietly; a divot between his eyebrows as he scanned your face as if looking to see any lingering signs of distress.

“M’okay; Jamie took care of me.” You responded quietly; words stretched out by the exhaustion still clearly weighing you down.

Barty hummed noncommittally and continued scanning your face. “Do you still want me to kill him for you though? You know I will, yeah?” He offered, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your (what James was sure was still overheated) face.

You chuckled and turned your face to him so he could press a kiss to your lips.

“No, I like him too much.” You offered softly as you nuzzled back into James’ pillow. “So do you.”

“Do not.” Barty argued petulantly, causing you to swing your arm out at him.

He caught it quickly and brought your knuckles to his lips. “Don’t exert yourself.”

“Don’t tell lies.” You countered.

Barty groaned dramatically and threw his head back. “Fine; I’m crazy about him. But I’d still kill him, you know?”

“You’re all bark.”

“He doesn’t need to know that.” Barty hissed back in faux chiding as he locked his now narrowed eyes onto James, and even though James had been privy to the conversation that just took place, he couldn’t help the nervous gulp he took.

“Seems like we might’ve gone scot-free for this one.” Sirius stage whispered at James, causing Barty’s somewhat dark glare at James to turn into something downright murderous when it moved to Sirius.

“You might want to run.” Remus stage whispered at Sirius who then took his own nervous gulp.

“It was nice knowing you, Moons.” Sirius offered solemnly with a head nod. “Pete, take care of our boy, yeah?”

Peter, for his part, offered Sirius nothing more than a thumbs up from his bed as he and James began backing slowly out of the dorm room.

“Barty - my love - I just want you to remember how much you love and care for me, yeah? And also that sweet angel over there, who would definitely not like to have me dead or for you to spend time in prison for murdering my best friend- NOW, PADS!”

And like two characters on a muggle cartoon show, the two Gryffindors went scrambling from the doorway.

And if James had perhaps stuck around even a single moment longer, he would have heard Barty ask you if he could “at least scare them a little?” to which you simply replied “be my guest.”

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street-smarts00 · 8 months ago

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Complimentary Colors

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

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WC: 7.3K

Summary: After recently joining the team, you and Spencer could never get along. What started off as you two ignoring each other turned into bickering at work. What happens when a stressful moment for you turns into an opportunity to get to know this fascinating coworker of yours?

tags: enemies to lovers, fluff, brief mentions of crime/murder at the beginning (talking about cases/kidnapping), reader is shy and anxious, reader looks young for her age. (reader might be female but i don’t think i specified)

A/N: I haven’t written anything in years and I’ve been on a criminal minds kick for a while. I had this idea loosely based off a prompt I saw on cai by (ApolloTheBoykisser) so thanks babes ;) also for once I had a fic of mine beta read lol my bestie beta read this for me. This is also posted on my AO3 page.

You had been working at the BAU for the last few weeks. You tried to get to know most of your coworkers and it seemed like you were making great progress. You had heard a lot about the team before you joined and were pretty intimidated by them at first. Okay- you were still pretty intimidated by them. But you pushed through your quiet exterior little by little and slowly but surely tried to get to know them.

All except for Spencer Reid. It seemed like he was trying to avoid you. He was always very quiet and would barely talk to you. Being a shy person yourself, you thought maybe he was just shy or a quiet guy. However, he continued to ignore you except for when he had to acknowledge you for work.

His coldness towards you was increasingly annoying as time went on, and your perception of him had slowly warped. The things about him you once found endearing, you now forced yourself to hate about him. If he rambled for too long, it could potentially make your blood boil. However, you could never stop paying attention to when he rambled on about facts or statistics. You didn’t want to admit it, but you found him fascinating.

It didn’t take that long for him to start acknowledging you, but this soon turned into the two of you bickering like children. When you were discussing cases or profiles, you both would argue over motives, victimology, crime scenes- literally anything about the case- you two could turn it into an opportunity to contradict the other. You both still kept a level of professionalism to not let your rivalry affect your job.

But there was always this tension between the two of you when you were in close quarters for too long.

And at some point you both reached your boiling point.

Last week, while the team was on a case, you and Spencer had gotten into a little spat once again. This time it went beyond the slight bickering or contraction. In the middle of the local precinct, you two were at each other's throats.

“What was that?” You asked after you and Spencer left the interview room that held a victims family.

“I was working off of the profile . . .”

“You mean the profile we haven’t finished?” You interrupted. “The one we are still currently working on and have yet to disclose?”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t work off of the information we already have,” he objected.

“You told her information we are still unsure about. We don’t know for a fact how long he keeps them alive,” you accused while placing your hands on your hips, trying to conceal your frustration but failing.

“Guys.” Someone tried to tone things down. Neither of you heard who and you weren’t backing down.

“If I remember correctly, I heard you discussing this very subject and inputting your thoughts . . .”

“You still shouldn’t have told her! Especially when you don’t know for sure if her daughter could be alive,” you seethed stepping closer.

“Would you rather me hide everything from the mother who’s suffering from the disappearance of her daughter?” He asked, matching your tone and taking a step forward.

“I didn’t say that!”

“It sure sounded like it.”

“Reid. Y/N.” The two of you turned your heads to your boss like two deer caught in headlights.

“With me, now.” Hotch demanded and led you to an empty interview room.

You could tell how angry he was- despite the fact that his stoic face represented almost every emotion in the book. But by the tone of his voice, you knew you and Spencer had messed up.

“You two do not only represent this team, you represent the bureau. These cops are already not pleased with the idea of their boss calling us in and I do not need you arguing in front of them and giving them a reason to take us off this case. You must learn to respect and cooperate with one another or I will take you both off this case. Do I make myself clear?” He lectured.

You both replied with a monotone “yes.”

“Good”

Ever since your argument, you both had been relatively quiet towards one another. Like it had been in the beginning when you were ignoring each other. But that didn’t stop you from letting him invade your mind at every waking minute. It almost saddened you in a way there was no more bickering or quick remarks with him. With how much it annoyed you, you never thought you would miss it.

The team had just finished a case and before everyone packed up and went home, Rossi announced that tomorrow everyone should come over for a little ‘get our minds off work’ get together. Your coworkers all thought it was a great idea to relax after the last few very stressful cases.

As excited as you were to finally go to one of Rossi’s house parties, you were also scared shitless. Parties with relatively new people in your life were hard. You were so quiet around new people and were scared to approach others; you often waited to be approached. To you, being a profiler was easier than having a social life.

But, maybe this time would be different. There’s not that many people on the team and you’d already started to familiarize yourself with them.

The next day, you were pulling up to Rossi’s house. If there was anything else to be intimidated by with this man- besides his years of experience in the BAU- it was this giant house. You were greeted by the man himself at his front door.

“Y/N, glad you could make it.” He opened the door and welcomed you in.

He led you inside to where everyone else was gathered. Everyone was cheery at your arrival. Penelope with her clicky heels ran up to you and greeted you with a hug. It was refreshing to be around people who were so welcoming. It made it a little bit easier to really let your walls down.

Well, almost everyone. Spencer gave you a small wave from where he stood.

The night continued on and you would occasionally engage in conversation with the team. At this point, you were off to the side- standing in the kitchen and occasionally sipping some wine that Rossi had been bragging about and was just so excited for everyone to try. You were a bit too overwhelmed to go back to talking. The music was getting a bit loud and the lights seemed to be too bright. You opted for sitting on the barstool next to the counter and observing everyone around.

They were all off in small groups or pairs around the house. All except for you and Spencer. He was another outlier and standing away from all the commotion. You looked over in his direction and he caught your eye. You both glared at each other and you quickly averted your gaze away from him. Your thoughts started to race and you began playing with your hair.

After a moment, he glanced over in your direction again when you weren’t looking. He was unintentionally profiling you and noticed you getting overstimulated. Your eyes laser focused like you zoned out, your foot tapping against the chair, and your hand anxiously playing with your hair.

While he wasn’t exactly your friend, he did understand what it felt like when social gatherings got overwhelming. He made his way over to you, careful not to make you more nervous or uncomfortable.

“You okay?” He asked you. You were pulled away from spacing out. His voice sounded a bit concerned- which took you by surprise. You were partially relieved someone approached you to help bring you back down to earth. That someone noticed something was off. What confused you was the fact that person was Spencer.

“I’m fine.”

He was well aware of what it meant when someone was “fine” and you were clearly not fine. He felt bad that you were so quick to shut down his attempt to check on you. After all, it was his fault and he knew that.

“Do you wanna step outside?” He asked.

You were conflicted. You didn’t want to be outside alone with him, but at the same time, you needed some time away from everything. Maybe it would help calm your nerves.

“Maybe for a bit.”

You followed him outside onto the back patio. You took note of the fresh air and the muffled sounds from inside. It all felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. Pretty soon though, you realized how awkward it was to be outside alone with him.

Spencer cleared his throat and spoke to break the silence, “Sometimes these parties can be . . . a lot.”

“A little bit. I was doing fine for a while but I think my social battery is running low.” You confessed to explain your discomfort.

“Yeah” he replied. He appreciated the fact that you felt comfortable enough to express this with him. He tried to relate to you. “It’s the same with me. Sometimes I just need a moment to collect myself.”

“Exactly.” You were relieved to hear that he felt the same way. “Plus it doesn’t help that I'm so new to the team.” You crossed your arms and slightly closed yourself off.

“I was the same way when I first joined.” He told her to try and ease your concerns. You were just like him at some point. The new guy and just trying to figure out how you fit in.

“It’s difficult at first, but you settle down after a bit. Once you get to know everyone.”

“Yeah it’s just the whole getting to know them part is a bit . . .” You abruptly stopped, hesitating to reveal too much to him.

“A bit what?”

“Intimidating,” you confessed, avoiding his eyes.

He obviously noticed your hesitance and avoided his usual behavior with you. You were always so strong and quick to banter with him. But now you seemed vulnerable, and he didn’t want to take advantage of that.

“It’s not just you, I promise.” He was being honest. This was the calmest and most genuine conversation the two of you had ever had. “I find them all pretty intimidating.”

Your eyebrows raised at his confession. How could he possibly be intimidated by these people?

“Really? But you’ve known them for so long. You all are so close.”

“Close doesn’t mean you can’t be a little intimidated,” he replied. It might not make much sense, but it was the truth.

“I mean Hotch is always stonewall and silent, no matter what you say to him. And don’t even get me started on Morgan.” He joked, knowing you would understand.

You lightly chuckled at his joke. “I get what you mean.” You were starting to understand him more. You thought it was ironic that one of the team members you were first intimidated by was also intimidated by the team. Now he was starting to seem less intimidating or annoying and more approachable. You kinda liked seeing this new side of Spencer.

“I guess I’ve always been like that. Worried to get to know people or open up.” You weren’t entirely sure why you were telling him this, but you knew he would understand.

"I think when you're afraid of being hurt or judged or misunderstood by people, you try to keep your guard up." He told you, speaking from experience. From a young age until now, he's always felt misunderstood.

"And I think...maybe that's why you're on edge with me? You're not sure what to expect from me."

“Are you profiling me?” You asked jokingly. Spencer however thought you were serious and you noticed him tense up.

“I’m kidding.” Your expression softened to let him know you weren’t actually accusing him of profiling you. “I’m gonna be completely honest, I’ve been on edge with you cause I thought you didn’t like me.”

He was a bit taken off guard by your statement. But at the same time, he couldn't deny it. He didn't dislike you now, but at first, he wasn't exactly fond of you. And now he was ashamed of that.

"I didn't like you." He admitted. "I thought you were pretentious, too eager to be accepted. I think I saw you as competition."

Spencer’s comment did sting. It was never sunshine and rainbows to hear someone doesn't like you. However, you did take note of his language. He said “didn’t,” “thought” and “saw,” all past tense. Does this mean he doesn’t dislike you now? What you did appreciate was his reciprocated honesty. You both were making some progress in your relationship and you wanted to continue it.

“I was eager to be accepted. I wanted to feel like I belonged.”

“I know how you feel.” He expressed his sympathy. “I regret not giving you a chance. You’re not like I thought you were.” He also appreciated seeing this different side of you.

“You’re not like I thought you were.” You admitted.

A little smirk tugs at his lips, “So I’m not as pretentious and selfish as you thought?”

You lightly chucked, “I never thought you were selfish, but I did think you were a ‘know-it-all’ and trying to show off.”

Spencer really didn’t want you to think he was a show off. Sure- he had a vast amount of knowledge, but he never wanted you to think he was bragging or that he knew better than you. “I do know a lot but I promise I’m not trying to show off. I just have all this information in my head and I want to share it with people or I’m really passionate about something and want to talk about it.”

You understood that feeling all too well. There were so many times you wanted to ramble on about things you cared about or had knowledge on, but for the most part just stayed quiet. Meanwhile, he didn't keep quiet. He would go on and on. And while almost everyone else was either rolling their eyes or trying to shut him up, you were listening intently. You didn’t want to admit it back then, but now you were feeling up to it.

“I will admit, while I did think of you as a know it all, I found a lot of your tangents interesting.” You admitted.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. He was so used to people dismissing him. It was nice to hear you often would listen. “Really? You didn't mind me babbling on?" He asked, relieved with your response.

"I mean, it is something I have trouble with. I tend to talk too much.”

“Oh Dr. Reid I am very familiar with rambling and being worried about talking too much.” You paused for a moment- considering how much more you wanted to share with him. “I know it may not seem like it because I’m always quiet around the team but.. once I get comfortable around people, I actually get very rambly”

"You do?" He asked, sounding surprised. “About what?”

“Really anything. Mostly things I’m passionate about like you. I’ll also tend to go on tangents about memories or just things happening in my life.”

You made your way to a bench on the patio as you spoke. Spencer followed and sat down on a chair adjacent to you. You brought your attention back to him and noticed his focused gaze on you and he quickly licked his lips, a habit you noticed he did all the time.

"You really are a lot like me. You're just quieter at first." He added, teasing you a little. While he was not one for social cues, he had the sudden urge to be bold and make a joke. "Maybe next time I see you rambling, I won't immediately contradict you."

You dramatically dropped your jaw and placed your hand over your heart. “Wow, you really know how to give a compliment,” you said, pretending to be offended.

He laughed with a bright grin. "I'm sorry. Let me rephrase. The fact that you're so silent and reserved makes it that much more thrilling when I find out how much of a chatterbox you actually are." He joked, being playful as before.

Your cheeky smile slightly falters for a moment. You hoped he wouldn’t notice but he did. “I think you won’t be so thrilled once I actually turn into a chatterbox around you.”

"Actually I think I would find it intriguing." He told you, looking directly into your eyes. "The quiet ones tend to be the most interesting and complex when they do end up talking."

“I’m not that interesting.”

“I beg to differ. You’re very interesting. Probably the most interesting person on the team.”

Did he really say that? Did he mean it? Or was he just being nice? You tried not to profile him, but couldn’t help it. His body language expressed he was being honest. Uncrossed legs and arms, open palms, eye contact. The only thing you didn’t notice when studying his body language was his dilated pupils.

“Thank you,” you smiled at his compliment, “I doubt I’m the most interesting though. You maybe, Mr. Three PHDs and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

He smiled back at you, “Just because I'm well educated doesn’t mean you can’t be as interesting as me, if not more.”

You couldn’t believe he was saying such nice things to you. This was the first time you guys were actually making some kind of connection.. and it felt wonderful.

“I still can’t believe we’ve known each other for this long but are just now talking. And by talking, I mean not getting into a spat after speaking for more than 3 minutes.” You confessed with a hint of playfulness in your voice at your joke.

“Yeah, I feel like I barely know you.”

“What would you like to know?” You asked.

He thought for a moment trying to think of a question to ask. You noticed once again that he licked his lips, trying to concentrate.

“Let’s start with something simple. What’s your favorite color?” He asked.

“Wow, I think that’s a bit too personal.” You said, voice laced with sarcasm. You tried your hardest to contain your amusement but started to smile. He smiled back at you. At first, he was always confused with sarcasm and social cues. To be honest, he still was. But he could just tell with you. He knew when you were joking and when you were being serious. He found your sense of humor amusing.

“Yellow.” You answered. “What’s yours?”

“Purple.” He replied.

You intended to leave it inside your head- but a quiet “huh” made it past your lips as an idea came into focus.

“What? Is it my choice for my favorite color?” He tried to joke with you but was also a little bit serious.

“Oh no, it's just I thought it was interesting because those are complementary colors. You know how they are opposite on the color wheel?” You asked even though you figured he knew.

He nodded his head, “Yes! Because they are on opposite ends of the color wheel, when they’re used together it creates a vibrant contrast and enhances visual appeal. The two colors almost balance each other out and support each other's intensity. Complimentary colors are a key component to color theory.” He suddenly noticed how long he was talking and his posture stiffened. He pressed his lips into a thin line and avoided eye contact. “Told you I talk too much.”

“And I told you that I find your rambling interesting.”

His head perked back up at you. You genuinely wanted to listen to him. It was refreshing to talk to someone that didn’t cut him off or zone out.

“That’s kinda like us though, don’t you think?”

“What’s like us?” He asked confused, still thinking about the fact that you actually enjoy listening to what he has to say.

“How our favorite colors are complimentary colors. Like you said, they support each other's intensity. When you first see them they’re opposites, but the more you look the more they compliment each other.”

He softly smiles. “That does sound like us. The more we learn about each other, the more we find we have in common.”

There was a short pause where you both considered his statement. You did want to know more about him. You wanted to know all of him.

“Can I ask you a question this time?”

“Of course.”

“So, you're always reading. Like everywhere you go, you carry a book with you. I wanna know: what’s a book you could read over and over again and never get tired of?” You wanted to know beyond his favorite color. You wanted to get to the various building blocks that made him the way he was.

Spencer considered your question for a moment. Trying to go through the near infinite list of books he’s read in his life. You could tell he was concentrating on his answer because licked his lips. “Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens.”

“Is he one of your favorite authors?”

“Yes.” He said almost immediately, confident in his answer.

“How come you like that book so much?” You asked.

You could see this sort of spark enter his eyes the more you asked about it. Giving him the chance to share his passions. ”Oliver Twist was one of the first books that used satire to deliver social commentary. Particularly in this book the social commentary was aimed at poverty in 19th century England. The book also quickly gained attention after its publication due to the scandalous subject matter in which crimes, such as murder, were depicted in detail.”

Spencer finally stopped rambling and almost looked as if he caught his breath from the endless talking. But what he was met with was your undivided attention.

”That sounds really interesting, maybe one day I should give it a read.” You say with a soft smile.

“You should,” he matched your smile, but it seemed a bit more sheepish due to his brief tangent. “Have you ever read Charles Dickens before?”

You shook your head in response. “I’ve never read anything by him. I actually don’t read much. But I used to in high school.” You revealed.

“What have you read?” He asked. He leaned slightly forward and unconsciously mirrored your body language and placed his right hand on his leg like you did yours.

“Pretty much the same books everyone else had to read for school.” You paused and tapped your fingers trying to refresh your memory.

“To Kill A Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, 1984, um.. a few Shakespeare books.” You answered with the few books you could remember.

“Which one did you like the most?”

“I’m not sure”, you sighed and thought about his question, wanting to give him a genuine answer. “Maybe.. Macbeth. I remember finding the story interesting and I did a group project on Macbeth and Lady Macbeth's descent into madness. Like the scene where she’s hallucinating the blood on her hands.”

Your voice started to pick up speed and volume ever so slightly. He could tell you were getting more passionate the more you spoke. Subtly displaying how you could ramble once you opened up to someone. He smiled as you continued, happy to see that you felt comfortable enough around him to let a hidden part of yourself out into the open.

“I guess that kinda explains why I wanted to be a profiler and learn about psychology and forensics. I was interested in how Lady Macbeth's guilt manifested and caused her delusions. I wanted to understand why people did the things they did.”

“I can tell, you have this curiosity. You want to understand. Know the ‘why’. He mentally recalled the times you would express your curiosity during work.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

He pressed his lips in a line. “Is it- is it my turn to ask you something now?” He stuttered slightly.

“I mean you don’t have to. It’s nobody’s ‘turn’ but you can if you want.”

“I do.” He replied immediately. The corners of your mouth perked up into a small smile. He mirrored you.

“I may be stealing your previous question. Like you said you don’t read much. But I have noticed you listen to music a lot. I want to know a song you could listen to over and over again.”

He was right, you often listen to music. Mostly on your way into work or on the jet, you would be wearing your signature headphones and have some playlist on. It was your own way of coping with the stress of your job. You looked down at the ground as you recalled the songs in your favorite playlist.

“Dreams by The Cranberries.” You brought your eyes back up to face him. But what you saw was confusion in Spencer’s eyes. He tried to hide it but you knew better. “Have you heard that song?”

He did that little sideways pout you often saw him doing when he was in awkward situations.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. Spencer broke eye contact, embarrassed he didn’t know something from pop culture.

“It’s okay. Remind me next time I have my headphones and I’ll show you.” You spoke calmly to reassure him there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

He brought his attention back to you. Relieved to hear your gesture instead of a quip about his lack of pop culture knowledge like he was used to.

“I will.”

“Alright my turn.” You shifted your weight and brought your legs up to your side so your whole body could face him. “Um, it's kind of a personal question though. I’m curious about something.”

“Go ahead. What is it?” He asked, giving you his whole undivided attention.

“Does it ever bother you when people question your age when you say how educated you are?”

He was somewhat thrown off by your question, but something told him you've wanted to ask him this for a while.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I wouldn’t say it bothers me. Considering I have had such an extensive education so early in my life, it’s completely understandable that someone would question how I did it at a young age.”

“Hmm,” you hummed in response. He knew that wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

“Can I ask you something personal?” He asked before asking his real question. He appreciated your concerns about potentially pushing a boundary and he reciprocated it. He didn’t want to break this newfound friendship- if he could call it that- by making you uncomfortable.

You nodded your head, silently telling him it was okay.

He slightly fidgeted with his hands. “Did you ask me that because people question your age?”

“Yes,” you answered hesitantly. “I’ve never looked my age.”

He thought about his next question before asking. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just trying to understand. Why does that bother you?”

“It bothers me when people don’t take me seriously. I mean I’m in my late 20s and some people still think I look fresh out of college. It hasn’t happened as often since I joined the BAU but so many people in law enforcement don’t take me seriously. People tend to think I’m too innocent to have a job like this.” You confessed to him as you avoided looking him in the eyes.

"I wouldn't say you're innocent.” His comment brought your eyes back to him.

“But you do have a soft demeanor. It makes you approachable. If anything, those qualities are an incredible asset to this job whether it be when you're speaking to victims or their family members.”

Even though he would often throw snarky retorts to you in the past and try to get under your skin, he always admired how good you were at your job. Of course, you were an amazing profiler and had no trouble standing against dangerous unsubs. But the way you handled incredibly sensitive situations with such calmness and comfort with others was admirable. During cases with children, you were able to ease their worries and provide a safe space.

“While you are very sweet and shy, I would never call you innocent.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at his compliments. You felt understood hearing his affirmation. It also warmed your heart to hear that he thought so highly of you. Especially since the last few weeks, you thought he hated your guts. Although- his comment did make you more curious about how you were perceived. “Half the time I don’t realize how shy I am or how I present myself,” you weakly chuckled.

“There were actually a lot of ways to deduce that you're shy,” he matched your lighthearted tone but also kept a sense of seriousness to prove he was being genuine.

“Was it the fact that I was sitting by myself and scared to talk to them?” You half joked as you figured that’s what he was going to imply.

"That was part of it, yes. But besides that, it was the way you often avoid direct eye contact, and the tone of your voice. It's gentle and low, as if you're afraid of coming on too strong.” He was too caught up in his thoughts and observations to realize how much he was divulging. “You keep your distance and your words are always measured or not overly assertive. Almost like if you do come off assertive you will receive backlash."

When he met your eyes again, he noticed how frozen you were. On the outside you didn't reveal much, simply had a stoic expression. He knew you better than that. He knew that he had hit a nerve and started to panic that he went too far. He had finally wrecked this slowly growing friendship like he thought he would, by being himself.

“Wow, yeah that sounds pretty spot on,” you agreed. You sounded soft spoken and played with your hair again, of course without your knowledge.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He abruptly spattered in a panic.

“No it’s okay really,” you interrupted trying to reassure him. “I just didn’t expect you to be so ... correct.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, relieved he didn't mess things up, but still slightly worried he had left you feeling exposed. "I guess I'm just good at noticing things about people,” he shrugged.

“You forget, we get paid to notice things about people,” you joked with him, trying to make him feel better by lightening the situation. Of course, it worked.

"That's true." He chuckled and paused for a moment to consider. Then he continued with his profile of you.

"It's just the way your voice softens whenever you become uncomfortable, almost whispering or lowering in tone. Or your nervous habits, like when you play with your hair." It was a gesture he was pretty keen on catching.

You suddenly were very aware of the fact you were playing with your hair. You quickly dropped your hands and crossed your arms.

"It's not bad that you do that, you know,” his voice had a slight crack in it. “It's just something you do subconsciously." He told her, trying to be comforting.

“Do you wanna know something you do subconsciously?” You asked, your voice with a hint of teasing. You decided that if he was going to profile you, you were going to profile him back.

He noticed your tone and that you had gained a bit more confidence. "Sure, hit me." He said as he awaited your reply with curiosity and interest.

“You poke your tongue out a lot or lick your lips. Most of the time when you’re concentrating or lost in thought. Which means you definitely need to start using chapstick. I’ve seen you do it a lot since we’ve been out here.” You explained.

"So, are you telling me my lips are dry?" He replied playfully, his grin widening.

“They probably are,” you lightly laughed at the silliness of his question. He laughed along with you and subconsciously went to lick his lips again, but caught himself.

“I'm gonna be thinking about this so much more now,” he confessed.

“Consider it payback for pointing out how much I play with my hair when I'm anxious. I don’t know what to do with my hands now,” you remarked as you dramatically waved your hands in the air.

“Sorry,” he awkwardly apologized.

“I already told you it’s alright. You're not the only one who analyzes behavior. I’ve noticed plenty of things you do and why you do it.”

“Like what?” He furrowed his eyebrows, curious what particular things about him you had profiled. He noticed something though. The confidence you once had, had washed away after you collected your thoughts.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you stated.

"You won’t make me uncomfortable,” he responded almost immediately. “I promise. I really want to know.”

You took a deep breath before explaining your observations. “You desperately want to be heard. You love to share the endless knowledge you have, but when someone walks away or cuts you off your reaction is almost that of deflating. And when someone does show a bit of interest in what you have to say your voice perks up and almost cracks with excitement. Then you talk a lot faster, probably a mixture of excitement and as a way to keep the other person engaged and to not lose their attention.”

Spencer carefully listened to every word you said. Not a single deduction was false. You had read him like a book in the short time you knew him. You noticed something about him that most of the team couldn’t pick up on.

"You're right about everything,” he said with a soft tone. Almost everyone interrupted him, you never did. This got him thinking. Of course everyone on the team made observations about each other, they’re profilers of course. However, he wondered why you had made so many about him.

"Are you always this observant about everyone? And I mean everyone. Or is it just me that gets the special treatment?" He asked his last question with a hint of a teasing tone.

You scoffed, “yeah right, like you get special treatment.” You thought about your response, not wanting to reveal too much.

“I guess I might have paid attention to you because you were the only one who was so closed off to me. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know who you were even if you weren’t going to tell me.”

He was right, you were paying him special attention. The fact that you wanted to know who he was despite his closed off nature revealed enough.

“So you admit it, I get special treatment?" He cheekily asked.

“Oh shut up,” you retorted.

“Make me.”

Your lips pursed, holding back a smile.

Spencer noticed you were trying to hold back a smile and found it endearing. He also noticed something else about your reaction. You were blushing. You blushed as a result of his taunting. He got lost in the thought of you blushing from him.

“Something you wanna share with the class?” You teased.

He didn't want to admit it, not yet at least. He wanted to make you sweat just a little bit and get a reaction out of you.

"I'm curious about something. Could you tell me what would cause someone's cheeks to flush?" He tried to seem genuine but of course he came off with a hint of cheekiness.

You furrowed your eyebrows. You were completely oblivious to your red face and were confused by his random inquiry.

“Are you questioning my profiling skills?” You lightly scoffed, not knowing what his true intentions were.

"No, not exactly. I just want to know what you think.”

Your expression changed to one of confusion but also amusement. You decided to play along with his little game.

“Well psychologically blushing could mean a multitude of things. Embarrassment, stress, anxiety, attraction.” While your voice stayed consistent, he noticed the change in your breath and how your eyes darted away from him. It was a brief expression, but he caught it. He got the answer he was looking for.

"And which one of those can explain why you’re blushing?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked as he leaned closer to you.

Your stomach dropped and eyes widened. You shifted your weight in your seat and touched your cheeks. “I’m not blushing..” You ignored his question.

"You are.”

You sighed and stood up, “Well if I am it’s probably because you just pointed it out and I’m embarrassed.”

"Oh, really?" He taunted and followed you. "I think that you might be blushing for a different reason."

You bit your lip out of frustration and crossed your arms. “Are you profiling me Spencer?”

"Maybe I am,” he smirked. "I would say that maybe you've been so interested in me that you've been paying a lot of attention. That's why you took note of so many of my habits and behavior."

Your face got redder and you started playing with your hair again. You huffed, “I told you before, the reason I paid attention to you was because I didn’t know you.”

"Sure, but you pointed out how you kept noticing I licked my lips. Why were you looking at my lips in the first place?"

You were caught between a rock and a hard place. “Why are you so interested in why I’m blushing or looking at your dumb face anyway? Why do you care so much?” You asked defensively.

He couldn’t respond, he froze up.

“I mean, you question why I pay so much attention to you but here you are doing the same thing to me. Trying to read me like a book,” you accused.

He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I guess we're both curious about each other."

“I guess we are,” you responded. You saw his cheeks turn pink in reaction to your questioning. “Look who’s red now.”

If his face could even get redder, it did. For a man that could probably say a thousand words a minute, it seemed like none of them could fall from his lips.

It was your turn to smirk. “I can’t believe I’ve managed to leave you speechless. Never thought that would happen.”

"Shut up,” he sheepishly scoffed.

“Make me.”

Spencer felt his stomach flutter, he smiled bashfully at your mimicking his own teasing. The seconds passed and neither of you spoke, neither of you had words. Both of you in your own heads. In your head, you got a stroke of confidence. You didn't know where it came from, maybe the teasing, maybe the fact that you had him speechless. But you took it and ran with it.

”Maybe the reason you wanted to know why I was blushing so badly, is the same exact reason I was blushing,” you mumbled.

The realization hit him in waves. You just admitted to the very thing he was trying to get out of you in the first place. He was speechless once again, but this was different. He stared at you with a stunned look, not knowing what to do.

You took his blank expression as a negative reaction, thinking you came off too strong. You slowly backed away from him, regretting putting yourself out there.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Just forget it.” You turned around to go back inside but felt something on your wrist. You turned around and saw Spencer had grabbed your wrist to stop you. His eyes wide and breath heavy.

"No. Don’t,” he begged.

"Really?" You whispered softly.

He smiled, "yes. Please don't take it back."

You smiled back at him bashfully. Spencer’s reaction make your stomach do backflips, but it made you wonder.

"Can I ask, why did you pay such close attention to me?

He released his light grasp on your wrist and instead placed your hand in his. "I couldn't stop analyzing every single detail about you. I wanted to know you inside and out. There was something about you that felt intoxicating. After every time I spoke to you, even if it was just us bickering or arguing, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

He looked down at your joined hands and started to rub his thumb over your hand. You looked up at him and smiled, glancing at his lips. “Well you definitely must be thinking about something now, you licked your lips.”

He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. You made him feel like he was on full display, like he was a book that only you could read.

He slightly blushed at your comment. “I am. Can you guess what I'm thinking about?"

You grabbed his other hand with yours as a smirk grew on your face, “How close we are. How it’s probably driving you crazy..” You nearly whispered the last part as you leaned closer to him, “how I’m making you crazy..”

"You do.” Spencer wrapped one of his arms around your waist and placed his hand on the small of your back. A shiver ran down your spine as his hand touched your back. Of course, he could tell and was light headed by the effect you had on him. He’d never felt so intoxicated by someone before. “You’ve made me a mad man ever since I met you.”

Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

“What about you?” He asked. “Do I make you crazy?”

You glanced between his eyes and his lips.

“Yes..”

It was like you both were on the exact same wavelength. You both dove in at the same time and slammed your lips together. Both of you just so desperate to get a taste of the other. The kiss was tender and passionate, with no single person in control. You both moved together in synced motions. All of the arguments, all the tension that had been slowly building up could be released.

When you finally parted, Spencer rested his forehead against yours. You felt his airy breath as he tried to come back down to earth. You placed a hand on his face and stroked his cheek with your thumb.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” he breathed.

“I can tell,” you chuckled. “what’s stopping you from doing it again?”

“Do you want me to?” He asked desperately.

You placed your other hand on the back of his neck, “I love hearing you talk.. but shut up and kiss me.

Before today he never liked the idea of you telling him what to do. But now, he was at your mercy. He didn’t hesitate and locked your lips with his once again. You both melted together like lovesick teenagers. But moments like these of course don’t last forever.

The sound of the patio door opening fell deaf on both your ears. It wasn’t until you heard Derek Morgan that you both pulled away from each other.

”What’s going on out here?” Derek questioned with a smirk.

You and Spencer couldn’t speak, too frozen to react.

His grin only grew, “My man,” he chuckled as he glanced at Spencer.

“Don’t kill each other while you're out here.” Derek left the way he came and closed the patio door.

You sighed, “He’s gonna tell someone isn’t he?”

“Yup”

He made his way back to his coworkers with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “What’s got you all happy?” Emily asked.

“Looks like our two angry birds are now two love birds,” he answered.

“What? What are you talking about?” Penelope sprinted over as fast as she could with her heels.

“How I just caught Reid and Y/N making out.”

The room exploded with chaos at the reactions to his news.

JJ, who was standing off to the side with Hotch, furrowed her eyebrows, “I thought they hated each other?”

Hotch glanced towards the patio door and saw the light shadow of two figures. “No they don't. Not really.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds headcanons #enemies to lovers

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paarthunaxx · 5 months ago

Text

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 CALL MY NAME, I’M YOURS TO TAME — 18+

larissa weems x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

status: completed

summary: You and Larissa Weems have been best friends since your years spent together at Nevermore. You have been meeting for tea every week since your graduation. But when the pharmacy in Jericho runs out of heat suppressants, you have to miss your afternoon tea with her.

And Larissa, being the dutiful best friend, pays you a visit instead.

tags: smvt, fluff, werewolf reader, in heat, kn0tting, decades of mutual pining, established friendship, soft larissa weems, larissa weems with a d1ck, shapeshifting, p in v, nickname mommy, nickname puppy

read here on ao3!

“Here is your tea, dear.”

“Thanks, Riss,” You take the teacup from Larissa’s pale hands and rub the pad of your thumb over the painted golden rim of the cup before setting it down on a pretty white saucer. “So, anything else to catch me up on this week?”

Larissa takes a long sip from her own florally adorned teacup and sinks into the armchair across from you. “Do you remember Morticia Frump?” She asks with the smallest hint of bitterness on her tongue. It doesn't come as a surprise to you. Larissa is a sweet woman, but you don't think you've ever heard her speak about Morticia without that resentment in her voice.

“Yes. Your roommate from when we attended Nevermore?” You nod and settle back into your own chair, folding one leg over the other. You notice Larissa’s gaze lingering on them for a flash of a moment, but don’t bother bringing it up. “You’ve spoken to her recently?”

Larissa gives a grim incline of her head and huffs a soft sigh through her nose. “Indeed. She called last night to request that I meet her child and consider enrolling her in the school.”

“And will you?” You ask curiously, lifting your teacup and taking a slow sip. There is just the right amount of sugar and milk mixed in. Larissa always makes the perfect cup of tea.

“I have a duty to look after the children of outcasts. I would not cast a young girl out just because I am not on the best of terms with her mother,” Larissa whispers. “I just wish I did not have to meet Morticia in order to enrol her daughter. I’m afraid it will be too painful to see her again.”

You send a sympathetic smile in her direction and shift forward in your seat. Leaning across the coffee table, you reach out to squeeze her knee. Her breath hitches at the touch as she watches you like a hawk. “It’ll be okay, Riss. Everything happened so long ago. And if she annoys you… Just think about all the different ways you’d like to fight her, then tell me all about it next week.”

Larissa giggles at that and places her large hand over your smaller one which rests on her knee, giving it a gentle pat. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, which you mentally blame on static. “You are right. There’s no point in being so absorbed in the past.”

“I usually am right,” You tease with a soft laugh. “Be the bigger person.”

Larissa raises a neatly plucked eyebrow at that. An amused smirk dances across her painted lips and she quips, “Pun intended?”

You snort around another sip of tea, almost spitting the stuff everywhere. You manage to choke it down and the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. After your laughter trails off, you spend another half an hour catching each other up on everything that has happened in the past week. Just like you have been doing every week for… well, years.

Larissa has been your best friend since you both attended Nevermore. Many times you have looked at her and wondered if there could be something more between you, but you don’t even know if she would want that. If she even likes women. And you’re terrified to risk your friendship by asking her out… No matter how much you adore her.

When the teacups have been drained and the grandfather clock pushed up against the wall starts to chime the hour, you sigh and lean back in your chair. “Time for me to get going.”

Larissa tsks softly, a playful pout poking out her lower lip. “Shame. Time always flies by so quickly with you.”

“I know,” You agree with a short nod. “Maybe we should start doing sleepovers instead of tea.”

“Maybe,” She whispers. A soft pink blush dusts across her pale cheeks and she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. She nudges her empty cup of tea out of the way and rises from her chair, towering over you. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Oh, how you'd love to climb her like a tree.

You follow her out of her dimly lit office and walk by her side as she leads you through the school to the large front entrance. You fit in some more idle chatter along the way through the familiar hallways, before coming to a stop on the stone steps outside.

“Until next week, dear,” Larissa leans down to wrap her arms around you, giving you a tight hug.

“See you then, Riss,” You stretch up on your tiptoes to hug her back, taking a moment to enjoy the scent of her sweet perfume lingering in your nose.

“I’ll be counting the minutes,” She whispers in your ear. There is such conviction in her soft voice that it feels as though she truly means those words.

She gives your waist a gentle squeeze and you reluctantly pull away from her. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as your brain immediately cries out in protest at the absence of her warmth. With one final goodbye, you turn away from her and make your way down the steps, bracing yourself for the walk home in the bitter afternoon air.

ᥫ᭡

You hum a soft tune to yourself as you bustle around your apartment, struggling with the bundle in your arms. You snatch up every pillow and blanket you can find, tossing them onto the bed to be arranged into a nest later. Each of them have been picked out specifically for the purpose of nesting, every one as warm and comfortable as possible. The pile on the bed is almost bigger than you, and you stand and stare at the mess of blankets with a proud smile on your face. Although you have your suppressants, it still feels comforting to bury into your nest during your heat, even if it is just to nap or read a book. Like being wrapped up in a warm hug from La—

You startle at the sudden shrill ringing of your phone from where it rests on your nightstand. You place a hand over your thundering heart and puff out a breath to calm yourself. In a few long strides, you cross the room and snatch the phone up to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hello! This is the Jericho pharmacy calling,” The familiar voice of Mrs Jones, the pharmacist, comes from the other end of the phone. “We are so terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but we will not be able to refill your prescription for suppressants at the moment. Our supplier has had a stock issue, and we have to wait for more to come from a bigger supplier in the city.”

“What?” You swallow hard, your eyes widening. Panic splits through you like branching lightning, your hand curling into a fist around the phone so hard you almost shatter it. “How long will that take?”

“Around a week and a half,” The pharmacist informs you.

“A week and a half? But… My heat starts tomorrow, and I don’t have any suppressants,” You whisper. “I haven’t gone through a heat in years. You don’t even have enough to get me through the week?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m so sorry. We can fill your next prescription free of charge as an apology for the delay. And if you need scent blockers, we can have them dropped outside your door.”

“Alright… Well, thank you for telling me. See you in a week and a half,” You hang up and toss your phone on the bed. Scrubbing your hands irately down your face, you mutter one word.

“Shit.”

ᥫ᭡

Sleep doesn’t come easily to you that night. Even wrapped up in the bundles of pillows and blankets that have been arranged for your nest, you can’t stop tossing and turning. Anxiety floods through your veins, making your body feel cold and your chest tight. It’s been so long since you allowed your body to go through a heat. There will be years of pent up energy in control of your body, and it's terrifying. You turned to the internet, searching through outcast forums to find out whether it will be more intense when it comes. Every werewolf in the world seems to be in agreement.

The longer it’s been, the worse your next heat will be.

By the time morning comes, you haven’t slept a wink. You sigh and force yourself out of your bed, shuffling to the kitchen to shove a cup of coffee down your throat. As you stir the sugar cubes into your favourite mug, your gaze happens to drift towards the calendar pinned up on your wall. On the square for that day, there is a large red circle with a little teacup scribbled in the middle.

“Shit,” You hiss for what feels like the millionth time in the last twelve hours. You stand there and stare at the doodle of the teacup, pondering whether you should still try to attend or call Larissa up and tell her you can’t make it to tea that day.

You know if you venture out of the house and your heat comes on, any alpha nearby will be able to smell you from a mile away. There may not be that many in Jericho, but even one would pose such a great danger to you… Never mind the werewolf students at Nevermore.

It would also be incredibly embarrassing to go into heat right in front of your best friend, and have her drive you home as you gush all over the seats of her car and whine in need. You shudder at the thought of what Larissa might think of you after something like that.

Before you can even make a proper decision on what to do, an odd feeling shoots through you. You feel your knees going weak, a sticky liquid clinging to your thighs and soaking your shorts. Another curse slips out as you clutch onto the edge of the counter, gasping at the coiling sensation twisting through your lower stomach. Your whole body shakes and you grab onto the counter for dear life.

Looks like you definitely won’t be seeing Larissa today.

You abandon your coffee, letting it go cold on the counter as you drag yourself back into your bedroom. It’s a difficult trip. Your legs threaten to give out beneath you the whole way there, your mind screaming at you to lay down with them spread and just hope an alpha happens to come along. Your brain has never felt so fuzzy before. You’ve never felt so stupid.

The moment you make it back to your room, you throw yourself into the nest. Your clothes are off in an instant. Flung carelessly in a heap in the corner. With trembling hands, you reach into your nightstand and grab a small purple bullet vibrator, fumbling around to switch it on. The trusty little toy has been used many times in the past while you thought of Laris— of… stuff. As soon as it makes contact with your aching clit you whine and arch off the bed, your body flooding with relief now that you finally have some friction. You bring yourself to the peak within minutes. And again. And again. And again…

But it’s not enough.

You shove your fingers inside while stimulating yourself with the bullet. Two isn’t enough. You add another. Not enough. You sob and writhe, your stupid mutt brain and your body aching for one thing. A quick glance at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand shows the time Larissa should be waking up for the day. You know you should let her know while your brain still works somewhat.

You lick your dry lips and reach out for your phone. Reluctantly, you switch off the vibrator and set it to the side while you call Larissa. She answers almost immediately.

“Hello, darling,” Her sweet, sleepy voice comes through the other end of the phone. “Are you alright?”

Biting back the soft whine that bubbles up from your chest proves almost impossible. The sound of her voice sends another flash of desire through you, your essence coating your shaking thighs. “Larissa,” You whisper hoarsely. “I… I can’t… Make it… Today…”

Concern rings clear through her voice as she hears you panting. “Oh? Is everything alright, dear?”

“Yeah,” Your fingers gravitate towards your swollen clit, rubbing at it slowly as you listen to her speak. You gasp before you can bite back the sound, and clear your throat. “Yeah. Just… Don’t feel so good. I’ll see you next week?”

“Okay… Get better soon, alright? Do call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” The words come out in a breathless mumble before you hang up the phone and chuck it to the side. Just the memory of her voice has you growing wetter by the second, your fingers coated in your juices as you desperately try to satisfy yourself. Flashes of her face shoot through your mind, of her large hands and long fingers…

The vibrator is snatched up again in an instant.

You spend the next hour pleasing yourself without a break. Overstimulation makes your body jolt and twitch, but you can’t stop. You can’t. It just isn’t enough. Your mind is well and truly mush at this point, shown in the way your gaze drifts towards the door and for just a second, you consider opening the door and letting your scent waft out. Waiting for the first alpha to come and claim you.

For a moment, you seriously think about it. It would make your heat more bearable. Yes, said alpha might do horrible things to you, and you don’t really want that, but…

Before you can do anything stupid, the doorbell rings.

Sobbing in frustration, you set your vibrator down again. You force yourself up on shaky legs, not bothering to put pants on. You simply tug the oversized t-shirt down over yourself and shuffle to the front door, yanking it open.

Standing there in front of you is Larissa. Clutched in her hands is a wicker basket stuffed full of gifts. Teabags, cough drops, a couple of face masks, some flowers and a small teddy bear. “Hello,” Larissa greets you with a bright smile. “Since you aren’t well, I thought I would bring—” As soon as she catches sight of you, her words trail off. “...Oh.”

“Larissa,” You gasp. You have to grip onto the door frame to keep yourself upright. Your cheeks are flushed beyond belief, your eyes glazed over and distant. There is a thin layer of sweat on your skin, not to mention the wet patches on the back of your long shirt and your thighs. “I’m in heat.”

Her own cheeks flush when she hears those words. “I… I thought you didn’t go into heat. I thought you took pills.”

“I do. Pharmacy ran out.” Those are the only words you can manage before another tidal wave of need crashes through you and you whimper, sinking to the ground.

“Oh, my darling…” Larissa coos and invites herself inside. She closes and locks the door behind her, sets the gift basket down on the coffee table, then lifts you gently from the floor. She pulls her coat off and folds it over the back of the couch, then slips her feet out of her high heels. “Come on, my sweet. Let’s get you nice and comfortable, okay?”

You know there is no comfortable for you right now, but you don’t dare mention that to her when she is being so sweet. So attentive. You feel yourself getting more wet.

She scoops you up into her arms with ease and carries you to the bedroom. Her chest rumbles a little when she clears her throat upon seeing the vibrator carelessly left on your soaked sheets. Thankfully, she says nothing about it and carefully sets you down.

It kills you to have her so close. You just want to rut against her milky white thigh and have her praise you, you want those long fingers inside you, you want her mouth on you. You’ve loved her for decades, but you’ve never felt such intense need for her in all that time.

“Larissa,” You whimper again, but you have nothing to say. You just need her attention.

“Poor thing,” She whispers. She hesitates for half a second before reaching out to brush her fingertips over your slick thigh. “What can I do for you, dear?”

That simple touch over your thigh alone makes you jolt and gasp. “Don’t… ask me that,” You plead. “You won’t like the answer.”

Larissa leans closer, her larger frame looming over yours as she reaches her free hand out to cup your chin. Her fingers are so gentle as they tilt your head back, as though she is handling something as delicate as a porcelain doll. “What can I do for you, dear?” She repeats in a firm whisper.

You melt as you’re forced to stare up into her sapphire eyes. It feels like you could become nothing more than a puddle in a pile of blankets if she continues this. “I…”

“Tell me,” She urges. Keeping her gaze fixed on you, she dips her head and presses a sweet little kiss to your jaw. “Let me help you. Tell me how.”

As pathetic as it is, the very little resolve you had left snaps as soon as you feel her lips on your skin. “Fuck me,” You pant, raising your hips unabashedly.

“Are you sure?” She asks, her grip on your chin growing slightly firmer. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I’ll do that for you if that’s what you need, but I don’t want you to regret it later…”

“Larissa!” You groan before breaking out into a pathetic ramble. “I won’t regret it. I have loved you since we were teenagers, you’re the love of my life, there is literally nobody else in this world I would rather have help me with this. You must know that. You must have picked up on how much I love y—“

Before you can even finish that word, her lips are on yours.

Both of her hands move to pin your hips to the bed, forcing you to keep still instead of uselessly writhing around. The sheets beneath you become soaked almost to the point of ruin as she kisses you hard, her tongue brushing against yours desperately. You struggle to keep up with the searing heat of her kiss, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she takes complete control. Your hips fight against her hold, and as a result she pins you down harder.

“Riss,” You whine against her lips.

“I know, darling,” She shushes you, one of her hands drifting from your hip to between your legs. You gasp out as her fingers press against you, teasing between your folds. “I know. Give me a minute, okay?”

“Can’t,” A soft sob slips past your parted lips as you pant, the pure desire for her making your body shake. “Can’t. Need you to knot me.”

“You need to wait a moment for my powers to work,” As though trying to sate you for the moment, two of Larissa’s long fingers slip inside you while her thumb rubs at your clit. When you gasp and arch into the feeling, she coos softly and begins kissing along the column of your throat. “My poor puppy. So desperate, aren’t you?”

All you can do is whine, unable to decide whether you should arch into her kisses or her fingers. Another orgasm rips through you as she circles your clit, your body squeezing around her fingers as you gasp and squirm.

“That’s it,” Larissa praises, lightening her hold on your hip. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ride it out.”

You don’t need more convincing than that as your hips move wildly through it, taking everything those digits are giving you.

But you still need more. More sobs leave you and you stare up at her pleadingly. The ability to form words on your lips has left you entirely. All you can do is whimper like the pathetic little thing you are.

“I know, puppy,” She suddenly slips her fingers out of you, making you whine louder. She shushes you firmly and you fall silent in an instant. She straightens up to her full height and begins hitching her skirt up to her thighs, unclipping her stockings and pulling down her panties. Your whole body seizes up at the sight of the penis beneath her skirt, hard and already leaking. She seems to have taken size into account, knowing you will be stretched with the knot. It isn’t too long or thick, made perfectly to fit in your tight hole.

She’s so damn considerate you can’t believe it.

Larissa lays back against the mountain of pillows you have set up, giving herself a tantalising stroke before patting her lap. “Come here, pup.”

You don’t hesitate, scrambling across the bed and setting yourself on one of her large thighs. You fight the urge to rut against it, knowing there is a much better reward waiting right there for you if you’re a good girl for her. She rests her hands on your hips and carefully guides you over here. The leaking tip of her cock rubs against your folds, teasing your clit.

“Are you positive you want this?” Larissa questions in a gentle whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It won’t hurt,” You assure her and cup her cheek. A little smile twists at your lips as she leans into the touch and sighs. Even if she hadn't created her cock to fit you perfectly, you would be so soaked and opened up by this point she could fit inside easily without hurting you.

“Okay. Relax for me, dear,” She nods. She surges forward to capture your lips with her own again. Her big hands pull you closer, and as she distracts you by kissing you like a woman starved, she slips inside you. Both of you gasp in unison, the sensation unfamiliar to each of you. She groans as your tight pussy clenches around her, taking her time to sink deeper and deeper inside you.

That isn’t going to fly with you.

Without warning, you slam your hips down and sheathe her fully inside you. She moans in surprise and chokes out, “Darling—”

Finally getting what you’ve wanted this whole time, you don’t stop. You fuck yourself feverishly on top of her, taking her cock deep inside you over and over again. You keen and whimper as your lips trail down to her neck, sucking and biting at every inch of pale skin you can reach. Even as your mind starts to blur, you have to force yourself not to sink your tiny fangs into her throat and claim her.

“Darling, please, slow down—” Despite her pleading words, her hands continue to guide your hips at the brutal pace you have set for yourself. Her head tips back against the headboard, harsh pants leaving her parted lips every second. “Gods, you need to slow down—”

The stretch of her cock inside you is like pure heaven. To finally be filled, and have her doing it, is the most exhilarating thing you could ever dream of. Having her hit that spot deep inside you, hearing her moans and knowing you are the cause of them. You’re sure you’ve had this wet dream about a hundred times over the past couple of decades, but fuck none of those dreams could ever compare to the real thing.

“You want me to slow down?” You pant in her ear, willing to do whatever she wants even that means slowing down when you just want her to fuck your brains out.

“Gods, no,” She whispers and pulls you down as she starts meeting you halfway in quick thrusts.

You moan in sheer delight, melting against her chest as she fucks you hard. Like she’s been holding back these same feelings for just as long as you have, and now she finally gets to let them out. She holds you tight to her chest with one hand while the other squeezes your ass, kneading it appreciatively between her fingers.

“Riss, I—” You gasp as yet another climax starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. You can already feel this one is more intense than the others, and not just because you’re far beyond oversensitive at this point.

“That’s it,” Larissa coos, “come for me, darling. Let me feel you coming around me like a good pup.”

That is all the encouragement you need. This orgasm crashes through you like a tsunami as she pumps into you hard enough to fill the room with harsh slapping sounds. Your nails tear into her shoulders, sharpening into claws that rip right through her nice blazer. Clinging onto her for dear life, your whiny moans fill the room. All you can do is keep riding her and taking her with every deep thrust as your body jolts and writhes under her hold, your whole being on fire with the pleasure she gives you.

“You want mommy to knot you, sweetheart? Want me to fill up that sweet little pussy?” She pants. Your body tightens around her cock at the sound of those words and she giggles, gripping your hips and dragging you down even harder into every snap of her own. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes,” You pant, nuzzling your nose into her neck and becoming pliant in her hands, allowing her to do whatever she wants with you. “Please please please. Please knot me.”

Moments later, she gives you exactly what you want. She moans sweetly into your ear, her thrusts growing sloppy before she buries herself all the way inside you. She gasps and pants as her release pulses through you, the base of her cock swelling and keeping her stuck inside your pussy.

“You’re mine, now,” She whispers possessively into your ear. You’ve never heard her use that tone with you before, and it makes you shiver with another wave of need. If she wasn’t already stuck in you, you’d be riding her all over again just for that. She brushes some hair back from your sweaty face and kisses your temple. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“I’m yours,” You repeat in a brainless whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling,” Larissa sighs, brushing her nose against your cheek. “I love you so, so much.”

She holds you for a long time, rubbing her hands up and down your back and praising you in a gentle voice. When she can finally pull out of you, she does so slowly, not wanting to hurt your sensitive hole. She curls a finger inside you to feel her own come filling you, and shivers at the feeling of her own stickiness on her fingertip.

“Just beautiful,” She murmurs and casts her blue eyes up to your face. “Do you feel better now, pup?”

“Yeah,” You nod, still a panting mess -- but a satisfied panting mess. “Thank you, Larissa. You… You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to,” She scoops you up and holds you close to her chest, before slipping her long legs over the side of the bed and carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

“Larissa?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Did you really mean it?” You ask nervously as you peer up at her. “When you said you loved me?”

“Of course,” Larissa smiles down at you. Her eyes shine with sincerity, and you can tell there isn’t a hint of dishonesty in her words. “I’ve loved you for… a very long time, sweetheart.”

There is a flutter of hope deep in your stomach as you swallow down a lump in your throat. “You have?”

“Yes.”

You can’t even bring yourself to say all of the things you want to as she perches you on the edge of the bath and begins running the hot water. As the steam fills the bathroom and she pours scented liquid into the water, all you can do is stare at her. At the red lipstick smudged across her beautiful lips, at her flushed cheeks visible even beneath her pale foundation. Her hair is still neatly pinned into place, she still looks eternally graceful despite the slight dishevelled appearance around her. This woman loves you. This… this goddess, standing before you, loves you.

“Larissa?” You clear your throat.

“Yes?” She chuckles, clearly amused by your line of questioning.

“After my heat ends, would you like to go on a date with me?” You blurt out before you can talk yourself out of it.

Larissa watches you for a long moment, a smile twitching at her painted lips. Eventually she nods, reaching out to caress your face. “I would love that.”

She bathes you with a great deal of care, making sure to be delicate near your swollen clit and cum-filled hole. You soon convince her to join you as another rush of heat goes through you, and she knots you again in the bath. Then she has to wash you all over again. Over the course of the next three days, the two of you can’t stop fucking. A couple of decades of pent up desire makes itself known in the course of a few days. During some point in those three days, she creates a set of long canine teeth for herself, sinks them into your throat and marks you as her own. At the end of it, you’re both utterly exhausted, but you’re happy.

So fucking happy.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #larissa weems fanfic #larissa weems fanfiction #larissa weems x reader fic

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bootsukki · 26 days ago

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AITA for telling my pregnant wife she should start wearing maternity clothes?

aita series masterlist

warnings: body insecurities, fluff and pregnancy

So, my (29M) wife (29F) is currently 24 weeks pregnant with our first child. Lately, she’s been struggling to fit into her regular clothes because, well, her belly is growing. It's pretty obvious that her normal wardrobe isn’t cutting it anymore — her shirts barely cover her bump, and her pants are clearly way too tight.

This morning, I was watching her try to button her pants, and it was pretty clear she was uncomfortable. She was tugging at them, trying to get them to fit, and honestly, it looked painful. I casually suggested that maybe it’s time for her to start looking into maternity clothes because, you know, they’d be more comfortable for her growing body.

She immediately snapped at me, saying she wasn’t fat and she could still wear her regular clothes. I wasn’t implying she was fat at all — just that she’s pregnant, and her body is changing, so maybe she should wear something that fits better. I didn’t push it after that, but she left for work clearly upset.

AITA?

Tsukishima leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes following (Y/N) as she tried, once again, to fasten the button on her favorite pair of trousers. With a smirk, he grabbed his coffee cup and took a sip, waiting for her huffs of frustration. At 24 weeks pregnant, her belly had recently "popped," making it more obvious than ever that her body was changing faster than she could adjust, which made her extremely moody and angry. Still, she wasn’t ready to give up on her usual clothes, even though it was becoming painfully clear they were no longer accommodating her growing bump.

(Y/N) huffed in frustration, twisting her body to the side in an attempt to close the button. Tsukishima smiled at the sight of her and his voice broke through the quiet.

“Maybe it’s time to start buying maternity clothes.”

(Y/N) froze, turning to send him a sharp glare, frustration boiling over. “Excuse me?”

Tsukishima couldn’t help the smile on his face. The sight of his wife and her cute belly made his heart race, now looking more like a mother whenever she was angry.

“Your belly’s growing, you’re 24 weeks along… those clothes clearly aren’t fitting anymore.”

(Y/N) stared at him, completely annoyed. The way he said fueling her frustration. “I’m not fat, Kei. I can still wear my clothes. I don’t need any of that maternity stuff.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, smirking. “If you say so.”

That tone… That one that made it sound like he was teasing her only irritated her more. Spitting words under her breath, she tugged at the waistband again, trying to prove him wrong.

“This fits me perfectly fine,” she muttered, closing the button and zipper with… let’s say, some difficulties.

“I’ll drive you to work then.”

She nodded, storming out of the house, trying to ignore how tight her clothes were starting to feel.

*****

(Y/N) sat in her office, trying to focus on the set of slides in front of her. She needed to prepare the course material for the professor that was going to cover her during her maternity leave, but the growing discomfort around her hips and belly made it hard to concentrate. The pants were squeezing her waist in ways it was impossible to ignore and sitting in the office was not helping her at all. No matter how she adjusted her posture, nothing could help her, skin feeling raw from the waistband digging into her belly.

She placed a hand on top of it, sending a quick “sorry” to him: her little baby, when it finally happened. A small, sharp pop.

She froze, looking down at the sight of the waistband finally letting her belly breathe. The button had popped out of her pants and it was now on the floor. Panicking, she tried to reach it and sensing she wouldn’t be able to move without her pants possibly ripping, she tried to replace the button with something on her desk but not even clips made it possible.

Swallowing her pride, she grabbed her phone and hesitantly dialed Kei’s phone. He picked up almost instantly, tone casual. “Hello.”

(Y/N) felt completely embarrassed and she was nearly in the verge of tears. “The button popped.”

“What?”

“The button on my pants… It popped.”

Silence, then a quiet laugh. “Are you being serious?”

(Y/N) ran a hand through her hair. “Love, I can’t close my pants… Can you come help me?”

Another chuckle left his mouth. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

True to his word, Tsukishima arrived at her office not long after, leaning against the doorframe as she handed (Y/N) a jacket and a pair of his sweatpants. Not even looking at him in the eyes, (Y/N) closed the blinds and changed, leaving the university in silence, Tsukishima’s hand resting lightly on her back, massaging the lower part of it reassuringly.

Surprisingly, he didn’t make any comments during the ride but (Y/N) noticed that he was not taking the route home.

“No.”

“Yes, baby.” Tsukishima replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “You need new clothes.”

(Y/N) knew he was trying to help but she was embarrassed and insecure about this whole thing. Her belly growing that fast was something she had not expected and even though she was grateful for the little boy that was growing inside of her, she couldn’t help but mourn her old her. Her old clothes.

At the maternity store, she felt reluctant as she browse through the loose fabrics designed for people who, like her, had clearly outgrown their pre-pregnancy wardrobe. The clothes were cute and she couldn’t say anything wrong about them but she was still unsure about the whole thing.

Tsukishima followed quietly, carrying the items (Y/N) was willing to try on, watching her with a soft smile on his face. If he could tell his old 17-year-old self that he, at 29, was going to be buying maternity clothes for his best-friend-now-turned-wife, he would probably die of a stroke.

“I’m going to try these.”

“I’ll wait here.”

As soon as (Y/N) stepped into a changing room and tried on her first pair of maternity pants, the relief was instant. No squeezing or pinching like before. (Y/N) ran her hand over her bump, surprised at how light and comfortable she felt. It was like a weight had been lifted — not just physically, but emotionally too. She shook her head, embarrassed at her silly thoughts about her body and about how she snapped at her husband that same morning. She was growing a whole human, it was perfectly okay to outgrown her clothes and feel her body changing as days go by.

When (Y/N) stepped out of the dressing room, Tsukishima was waiting for her, leaning casually against the wall. His eyes immediately flickered to her stomach, then back up to her face. “How do they feel?” he asked, his voice calm but curious.

(Y/N) shifted in place, tugging at the stretchy waistband, looking at herself in the mirror. “They… actually feel really good,” she admitted, sounding almost surprised. “I didn’t realize how uncomfortable I was until now.”

Tsukishima nodded, his eyes still focused on her belly, expression softening. “That’s the point. You shouldn’t have to fight with your clothes every morning.”

She sighed, leaning against the mirror. “I guess I just didn’t want to admit that I needed them. Everything’s changing so fast, and I wasn’t... I'm not ready to let go of my old self. I'm already 24 weeks and this whole thing is speeding up and I'm not keeping up with all the changes..."

Tsukishima stepped closer, his gaze gentle as he reached out to touch her belly, his large hand resting on the curve. “You don’t have to let go of anything,” he said softly. “You’re still you, Y/N. Belly or no belly, maternity clothes or not. It doesn’t change who you are. You don't need to be insecure about this. I love you, doesn't matter what you do or how you feel. I love the Karasuno (Y/N) that had the best grades of all the class, the university (Y/N) who always came back to my apartment after being out with friends, letting me take off her make-up and make her food because she was really drunk, (Y/N) who wrote an amazing book, (Y/N) who makes me the happiest every single day and I’ll love the (Y/N) that takes care of our son and that will cherish him every single moment.”

Her heart swelled at his words and she pouted, hiding her face on his chest.

"How did you know that I was so down about this?"

"We've been together for 12 years. I know everything about you."

Tsukishima held (Y/N)'s hand, his fingers playing with her ring and she softly looked up at him. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier," she whispered. "I was being stubborn."

Tsukishima's thumb brushes lightly over her stomach. "I know. This is taking a toll on you and I understand. I was not trying to upset you, I just want the best for you and for him."

(Y/N) smiled, reaching up to cup his face, pullinghim down for a quick kiss. "Thank you. For being patient and for looking out for us. You're going to be the best dad, you know that, right?"

Tsukishima's arms wrapped around her, resting his chin on top of her head as he looked at themselves in the mirror. "They fit you nicely. If you want, we can get you a few more."

"That would be great." (Y/N) sighed. "Now that we are here, maybe we should look at baby clothes."

Tsukishima nodded, his hand still rubbing her stomach as (Y/N) leaned into his embrace, feeling at peace. The changes were undeniable but as she looked up at her husband, she knew that there was no one better to go through his changes than him. (Y/N) Tsukishima, Kei Tsukishima and baby Tsukishima were ready to embrace this next chapter of life together, as they had always have been.

“Hey, Kei. Do you think there’s Sendai Frogs onesies for our baby?”

“Shut up…”

*****

Edit:

Hey Reddit, it's been a while, like a year or so. I hadn't actually seen the comments under this post. Work was a lot and taking care of my wife during pregnancy was a big thing but, no complains about it.

I don’t usually post here anymore, but I felt like I owed this update to the people who helped me see things from a different perspective. I guess I should start by saying that everything worked out way better than I could’ve imagined.

Our son was born about 4 months after that post, and honestly… he’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I thought I knew what love was before, but nothing compares to the way I feel when I held him for the first time. Watching him grow, hearing his little laughs, and seeing how much he looks up to my wife — it’s all so overwhelming in the best way. He's got her eyes, and every time I see them, I’m reminded of how lucky I am.

And her? I can’t even begin to describe how incredible she’s been through everything. The strength and grace she’s shown during the pregnancy, birth, and even now as we navigate this wild, exhausting, beautiful journey of parenthood… I honestly can’t imagine doing this with anyone else. She’s my best friend, my partner in every sense of the word, and the love of my life. She handled the changes to her body post pregnancy like a champ, and I’ve grown to understand how tough that transition was for her. She’s everything to me, and seeing her as a mom has only deepened my love and respect for her.

I'm glad my teenage self could realize his feelings for her because she's just... She's perfect. I don't care how many times we fight, how many small disagreements we have had because she has taught me a lot of tings, the first thing: love.

She helped me love myself and that love she showed me helped me be a better person, enjoy the little things in life and so much more. I fall more in love with her as minutes go by.

Anyway, I’ve also realized how important it is to be patient, gentle, and supportive in the moments where life throws changes at us. This past year of big changeshas taught me that love isn’t just about being there for the good moments — it’s about understanding each other through the challenges, too. And trust me, we’ve had our fair share of sleepless nights and stressful days. But even when things get tough, I know we’re in this together, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. I hope my 20-year-old self is proud of how much I’ve grown since getting married.

So, I guess this is me saying goodbye to Reddit. Life has become so full, and every spare moment I have, I want to spend it with them — with my little family. Thank you to everyone who gave advice, made me reflect, or just made me laugh with their comments. I also loved spending my nights reading other AITA posts but now, I think I want to spend my nights reading stories to my son or watching my beautiful wife sing to him as his little eyes close, getting ready for a new day full of discovering the world around him.

I’m logging out for good, but before I go, I just want to say one last thing: if you’re lucky enough to find someone you can weather life’s storms with, someone who makes you better and makes your heart feel full… hold on to them. Love them through every change, every challenge, because those moments shape you, too. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m really, really happy I had to go through an existencial crisis at 17 just to realize how much I loved my best friend. What an amazing life that has brought me…

Take care, everyone. Hope my son doesn't find my posts about being a teenager with mixed feelings when he is older lol (although telling the stories that inspired those posts wouldn't be so bad, right?)

author's note: thank you for reading the aita tsukishima series!! i'm grateful for all your likes, reblogs and comments, they made me so happy! <3 i hope you have enjoyed it :) requests are open and i would love to hear some comments about how to improve for future posts! big love,

boo tsukki

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu #tsukkiaitaseries #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #i actually cried writing the last part of the post

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kingconia · 1 year ago

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TWISTED WONDERLAND'S HOUSEWARDENS WITH MC, WHO IS MUCH WORSE THAN THEM

(Aka. In their ’signature’ character trait.)

A/N: Idia was left out, because this author had no idea how to write his part.

Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️

— It is not a secret that Riddle might appear a little bit obsessed, when it comes to rules. He knows all of them, and he merely can't understand how others can be so careless!

— And since no one learned them, excluding him, they trusted with each word he said. Mostly, Riddle said truth, following the codex precisely;

— But, oh, he is still a human. Sometimes, he can make mistakes or confuse things...

— That is why, when a new student of his suddenly stood up to point out at his mistake, Riddle doesn't even know what to do: be happy that there is someone else like him, or get annoyed for a necessity to admit his wrong?

•

”Hmph, how dare you call yourself a housewarden of Heartslabyul, when you can't follow elemental rules?”

As other students gasp, shocked by this kind of braveness, Riddle feels his cheek heating. Either from anger or from a strict gaze of yours, that reminds him much of his mother.

”You said that the ’only ever drink tea with slice of lemon on even thursdays’ rule is under 53 number,” you repeat, with hands on the tips, and with no care to Trey, who tries to stop you.

”That, I did,” regaining his coldness, Riddle admits.

Truth to be told, he sensed that he made some kind of mistake with this one. But recently he had been more tired than usual, and it is not like someone else know those rules but him, right?

Right?

”Well," you huff. ”It is under number 35.”

Oh.

”I...” Riddle tries to ignore others eyes on him, fingers digging in the fabric of his pants.

He fights an urge to lie about checking other students, instead of admitting his fault. You don't give him time for any of that.

”Well, keep that in mind then,” you say. ”I expect my housewarden to respect our dorm rules, after all.”

With that, you merely leave.

Riddle has a very mixed feelings about this encounter...

Leona Kingscholar. ��

— When headmaster Crowley stops him not for yelling at him for missed lessons, but to speak of another troublemaker from Savanaclaw, Leona is caught off guard;

— It appears, a new freshmen, gained a quite awful reputation. You seem to be sleeping all the time—you did, in the ceremony; and you do, if you appear on lectures, though, mostly, you don't at all—and the only good thing about you is your surprisingly high grades;

— Truth to be told, Leona is just amused by that. All those warnings some pretty familiar, so, he decides to see you himself;

— Of course, Leona couldn't expect you to be so familiarly annoying!

•

”Shit,” you yawn, a frown touching your face instantly. ”Dude, you must have a really good reason to wake me up.”

Leona blinks; his curiosity changing with irritation quickly as he hears you speaking so carelessly, while stretching under the tree, not even standing up to meet him properly.

”Oi, brat, pay some respect to your housewarden!” He hisses. ”Perhaps, you are forgetting who are you speaking with?”

”Leona-sama,” you sigh tiredly, not impressed by his answer, ”I can't pay respect to someone, who thinks that distracting me from my power nap, is fine.”

Leona is speechless. Mostly, because he doesn't know how to argue about this—he agrees that sleep is more important than anyone or anything in this school, after all. But the amount of disrespect...

”Do you have an idea of your reputation? Headmaster plans to expel you from the school if you continue like this.

Leona internally cringes from these words.

”Sure,” you hum lazily. ”Good luck with throwing off the best first-year student, just because they find those lectures boring.”

Leona can't even answer to you properly. You just fall asleep as soon as you stop speaking, with your tail wrapping around your legs peacefully. At least, he understands Ruggie now...

Azul Ashengrotto. 🩵

— Azul makes a quick background check on all of his students, of course. For safety reasons. More or less;

— So, he is surprised, when one of the freshman, who happens to be you, is too secretive. Azul can't find anything on you at all, even the smallest piece of information, and so, he gets curious;

— His first plan—to get twins stalker on you—fails, when you catch them in the action, somehow. Even worse, you somehow make a pact with them, which stops them from trying to dig in your past more...

— Your next step is to send Azul invitation for a little friendly lunch in the Monster Lounge. Sadly, when he agreed, he couldn't know that was expecting him here...

•

”I am failing to understand a purpose of our meeting,” Azul locks his hands together, staring at you without even blinking.

You make another sip of the apple juice you ordered, lips stretching in a soft smile.

”I am here to offer you a pact, Azul-sama.”

Azul almost bursts in the laughter. Who do you think you are, making this bold offer, going against him? What an amusement.

”Oh? Surprise me, then.”

”As far as I know, you spent last three weeks, trying to gain a little information about me. But, oh, all for nothing. Just as I tried to find an answer for a few questions considering you and the Monster Lounge, and failed... So, what I am proposing, is to exchange our secrets mutually,” you wink. ”What do you think?”

How stupid of you to think that he will agree on something like this!

”And why would I want to make a pact with you?”

Suddenly, you search for something in the inner pocket of your jacket. And as you find some envelope, you offer it to him.

”Because you don't want this to get leaked, perhaps?”

It takes a few minutes from him to process what is inside, but when he does, colours leave his face instantly.

”Y-you—”

How did you?..

”It is a deal, then.” You laugh.

Azul hates how there is nothing he can say to you...

Kalim Al-Asim. 🧡

— Kalim tries to befriend each student of his house naturally! But, sometimes, others don't want to return his sentiment as he is too loud and too naive for them, so they avoid him or offer a fake sympathy;

— So, when one of the students rushes to befriend him first, smiling widely as they met their old friend, Kalim is very, very happy!

— You match instantly, your undying energy and enthusiasm about everything bringing you close as soon as you start speaking;

— Even better, you take him seriously, too. It is something other do rarely, seeming him stupid and air-headed, but you know that is more than that. It goes in both way, after all.

•

”I... I must admit, I am very happy to be your friend,” you muse softly, back pressing to the carpet as both of you taking your short flight around the school. ”I think, I annoy a lot of people here... But I am not annoying you, am I?”

Kalim looks surprised with this question—after all, you knew him better than anyone!—as he rushes to shake his head in denial.

”No, no! You would never.”

You hum, turning on your stomach slowly. Head pressed on your crossed hands, you nod at him.

”That's good. Thank you.... And, Kalim?”

”Yes?” He asks, mirroring your pose, your shoulders pressing together.

”I think you are amazing housewarden, too. Don't allow anyone think otherwise.”

Before you manage to understand, Kalim is already tucking you on the back, to hug rightly. Just how you always know what to say to him, or how to make him happy?

Vil Schoenheit. 💜

— Everyone knows that despite his tight schedule, Vil always checks on all of his students, so they could fit standards of their dorm;

— He takes more time to deal with new students, though. Most of them are still not aware of Pomefiore rules and expectations, so, he needs to speak with all of them individually;

— So, Vil is slightly taken aback, when someone is already instructing new students before him. He watches as you explain others common rules, while giving them random advice on how to enhance their skin and hair routine, basing on different problems and offering interesting solutions, curiously:

— Of course, Vil can't wait to speak with you personally!

•

”Y/n Y/s, right?” You pause your speeches, nodding at Vil, who just entered the room. ”I had been watching you for a while, and, I must say, you have impressive qualities. And style, too.”

Vil partly expects you to become all shy over his compliment—that is what happens usually, at least—but, instead, you became even more serious than before.

”I appreciate that, but I believe my wish to help other classmates is partly selfish. And selfishness shouldn't be praised.”

It is not what he thought he will hear.

”And how so?” He asks with unhidden curiousity.

”I strive for perfection, and perfection can only be achieved by the hard work,” you punctuate firmly, raising your chin higher. ”But I also believe that your surroundings should fit you—and so, my dorm, classmates, and housewarden should meet my expectation for myself, too. Therefore, I need to guide them in perfection alone with myself.”

Ah.

Vil can't help but smirk. What an absolute pleasure to speak with someone, who knows what they are doing, who has right morals!

”Well, well,” he folds arm on his chest. ”I can't wait to see more of your hard work, then.”

”I would never disappoint.”

But as the conversation is finished, Vil already knows who is going to be the next housewarden, when he leaves.

Malleus Draconia. 💚

— When Lilia tells him that they now have another half-dragon creature in the Diasomnia, Malleus is partly curious. It is a rare thing to have someone of his own kind, after all;

— But, of course, Malleus can't just walk to you and start a conversation. Instead, he tries to see you more often; in school or corridors;

— It doesn't give him much. You seem very cold, and other classmates ignore your presence constantly, though, you don't seem to be interested in them, either;

— He finally has a chance to speak with you personally, when he finds you walking around gargoyles in the evening, though.

•

”Malleus-sama,” you bow your head, noticing his presence even earlier than he announces it. ”Good evening. How this one can help you?”

”Y/n,” he slightly nods, examining you closer. ”If I am not mistaken, there is party for the first-years in the school. Why are you here?”

Malleus can't help but notice hints of confusion, raising in your eyes, before you cover it with the usual stoic expression of yours. With a quiet sigh, you start petting the statute affectionately, much like an animal.

”Is that so? I am afraid, I wasn't invited, then.”

He rewards you with sympathetic look.

”I see,” he adds, awkwardly: ”I am sorry to hear that.”

”Oh, no time for regrets,” your fangs bare in a smile. ”Actually... Malleus-sama, I planned to ask you something for a while, but never had a chance to speak with you before. Can I?”

”Of course.”

”Headmaster told me, that you are leading the club of the researches that are dedicated to gargoyles... And so, I wanted to know what I need to join it. You see...”

As you start rumbling about the importance of gargoyles, Malleus can't help but wonder why he saw you as someone cold before. Was it something others thought of him, judging by short glimpses of his attitude in school?

But it doesn't matter anymore. He thinks, your company is very enjoyable, after all.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim

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illubean · 4 months ago

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HIHIHI!!! I've been following you for a while and i recently saw your toph! reader HC and I've been wondering if I could request for a katara! reader who's really good at waterbending and specialises on healing and blood bending? Could the characters be Gon, Killua, Illumi and the phantom troupe? Hope you eat well and stay healthy!!!

HXH W/ a Katara!Reader

Characters: Gon Freecs, Killua Zoldyck, Illumi Zoldyck, The Phantom Troupe Type: Headcanons, Fem!reader, Platonic

tried making this gn but then I ended up using fem labels a lot >.< also when I see "the phantom troupe" in headcannon requests im just going to write them collectively unless otherwise specified

Warnings: None

Gon Freecs

your older sister/eldest daughter syndrome is very evident around him

he probably doesn't pick up on it but everyone else sees how fiercely protective you are over him

you have a soft spot for children and Gon is literally the sweetest ever so you can't help but want to keep him safe

before the hunter exams, the only role models Gon has ever had in his live have been maternal figures (Mito and his grandma)

you end up becoming another one

which may also be part of the reason he is so respectful and kind

he's ok with your motherly nature mainly because he's very used to it and he can understand where you're coming from

he cares for you as if you guys were blood related

when he went cray in chimera ant arc you were the first person Killua and Leorio thought to call

yk because of your healing ability

you healed him the best you could before Alluka showed up

and scolded him immediately after he recovered

Killua Zoldyck

he likes someone with Toph's rebellious personality but you?

you're a total wet blanket...

your such a stickler, always trying to stop him when he's feeling mischievous

you remind him of how things were back at his estate...

you are not his mother stop acting like it

but whenever you protect him from getting seriously hurt or heal him he's reminded you have good intentions

he knows you're not trying to be manipulative and controlling but god pls loosen up

despite how distant he might present himself he can't help but grow a little emotionally attached to you

he's never had a healthy relationship with his mom...

you are the only normal motherly figure in his life

he acts like he can't stand how you fuss over him but in reality he cares for you deeply and kind of likes that you feel the need to be protective over him

Illumi Zoldyck

unlike his brother, he likes you a lot more than if you were to have Toph's personality

because you remind him of his mother

he doesn't mind your protective nature as long as you don't get in the way

your 'blood bending' technique is of great interest to him..

you are able to use it on normal days and don't have to wait for a full moon because this is my fanfic and I said so

it just happens to be at it's strongest on full moons

he probs starts keeping track of the moon cycles just to take you on missions and see you in action

with the blood bending technique you could literally stop any enemy

a very OP ability indeed....

which is why he keeps you around

you're strong and have a pretty normal personality so there's really no reason for him to dislike you

The Phantom Troupe

it's pretty 50/50 with them

and by that I mean some of them don't mind your motherly personality while others think it's annoying...

mainly Phinks and Feitan; they feel you're too bossy

but the entire troupe can agree that your nen is impressive

1) they have a healer now and 2) your blood-bending is some sort of secret weapon

you get along well with Nobunaga, bonding over your shared soft spot for children

Chrollo probs personally recruited you for your abilities seeing as he couldn't really steal them..

Machi likes having you around because now she has to stitch people up less often

when Kalluto joins, he becomes the one you're most protective over

the younger members see you as an older sibling figure

aka Shizuku(18) Kalluto(12) and Kortopi(he has no canon age as far as I know but I like to imagine he is a child rather than a small adult...)

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crimsoncandy04 · 5 days ago

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hii omg out of curiosity... could u do a scara with a bratty virgin reader who teases him too much thinking she can get away with it. if that suits ur tastes that is 😊😊

Of course! I may not fit the entire idea of a brat myself, but I've been told I can act a little cunty now and then so I think I can do this one fairly well.

Scaramouche was just another annoying superior you had to obey. All the harbingers were pretty much the same in the aspect that they viewed YOU as lesser than. Which technically you were by law of Snezhnaya but that wasn't YOUR fault. You were only stuck working as a subordinate for the height deficient harbinger called The Balladeer because your stupid slut mother had gambled away a HUGE loan while she was pregnant with you and instead of taking responsibility, she fled the country and hadn't been seen since you were like 6.

But the fatui weren't just going to forgive a debt that large simply because of a disappearance. No.

A group of fatuus soldiers had knocked on your grandparents door one day, led by Scaramouche. They were given three options.

1: Pay off their daughter's debts.

2: Die.

Or three...

"Give the oldest girl over and have her work it off in her mother's name." Was what the pretty faced yet slick tongued bastard had said.

Your grandparents had recently been put in charge of your half brother too as authorities had taken him from your mother's home due to excessive drug use on her part. He was just a little kid, barely 4. YOU on the other hand were now a young lady. A young adult.

He needed your grandparents.

You had had a wonderful childhood already.

And so you bowed your head and agreed to go back with The Balladeer and his cronies to the fatui headquarters and officially join the ranks.

It wasn't that bad actually. Scaramouche didn't actually seem to care or not if you didn't do your job. But you were clearly the only exception as you often watched him treat others with a cruelty that bordered on ruthlessness.

Not that it was your problem.

You often sauntered into his office late at night to chat with him. Not that he ever stopped you.

"Hey Scara what's up? Ugh you really should get better lighting here. It looks so ominous!" You bitched as you hopped up onto the edge of his rather grand looking desk and looked down at him while he worked.

"Hey let's hang out for a bit! That stuff is just boring work things anyway! I never do mine!"

He grunts.

"I know."

You pouted as you tried to scoot a little closer to him.

"ugh you're so lame today! And here I thought a harbinger as mighty as yourself could multi-task easily! It appears I was mistaken!"

Scaramouche rolled his eyes at your behavior.

"leave. I'm busy right now."

You were feeling agitated now.

"no! I've been waiting all day to hang out and now you're ignoring me!?" You turn completely around so your legs fell over on his side of the desk now. Crossing my arms as I stubbornly stand my ground.

"I'm not moving until you at least look at me you stupid meanie!" You whined.

The pen in Scaramouche's hands suddenly snapped in half. Ink splashing across the tabletop caught your attention.

"I said leave."

"make me!* You stick out your tongue and pout even more at his tone.

"it's not like you're actually gonna punish me for being here like anyone else! Stop being such a big meanie!"

Suddenly his hand was around your throat.

"Is that what you tell yourself bitch? How amusing." He squeezed your neck. Just enough to make you dizzy as you felt Scaramouche rip open the front of your buttoned white blouse.

His eyes quickly looked you over with a predatory hunger.

"you're alright I guess. For a human anyway. You'll do."

You squeak in terror as he tears off your bra next. Gently running his fingertips across your nipples and causing them to harden. as your breath hitches in your throat, you feel an unfamiliar warmth in your panties at the sensation.

He then shoved you back onto the table top.

"h-hey what are you doing? Stop this at once!" You squeak anxiously. Being almost frozen in fear as you feel Scaramouche roughly lift up your shirt and expose your panties to his smug looking gaze.

"what? Not so tough now that you finally realize how insignificant you are?"

He traces the outline of your wet slit through the dampened fabric.

"how pathetic. Acting all bold and yet you're already shaking and getting excited before I've even touched you."

Scaramouche easily tears away the delicate fabric as he spreads your knees wide for him. He kneels down and closely takes in the sight of your exposed sex. Gently pulling your folds open to give him a better look at you.

You feel his cool breath against your inner labia as you begin to tremble.

Finally something clicks for him.

"oh? I see you've never been had yet. It's almost funny Y/N, at your age? Seriously? What?"

He pinched your clit softly

"too shy?" His raspy tone bordered on a seductive growl as you feel him rub little circles on your pleasure nub.

"ugh it's not like I haven't had chances before! I just didn't care for anyone enough to want to do that stuff!"

Your words were met with a jeering cackle as Scaramouche simply sighed and slowly began to ease two fingers into your unbroken entrance.

A strong ache filled your body as you moaned softly and saw blood drip onto his palm as you struggled to raise your head and see what he was doing at first.

Immediately he shoved your head back down and kept a firm grasp on your throat.

"stay still sweetheart. If you don't relax, it's going to be excruciating."

You felt him begin to slowly start thrusting his fingers in and out of your tight pussy. Successfully popping your cherry as you blushed deeply and tried to muffle your cries using your hands.

He leans down and gives your clit a gentle lick next. Teasing you now as you whimper at the new feeling. More warmth filling your lower abdomen as you feel your legs tremble while Scaramouche continued to lap at your untouched bud. Deliberately trying to draw out the strange rising feeling in your tummy. You cry a little as you finally dare speak.

"Please... stop this... I'll pee!" You wail pitifully as his eyes took on a seductive look.

"That's not what's about to happen sweetie ~ don't worry, you're about to feel really good, I promise ~"

He released your upper body and began to focus more on stimulating your tight cunt as he fingered your sensitive walls and continued to gently suck on your clit. Giving it a little bite now and then that made your legs tremble.

Finally you feel your lower abdomen tighten. Your insides pulse as you feel yourself squirt. Scaramouche swallows every drop almost eagerly as he continues to tongue fuck you through your orgasm.

Only when you lay breathless and exhausted upon the table before him, does he finally free his rather large cock from the confines of his shorts, pressing the tip teasingly at your entrance.

"You were all bark just an hour ago bitch. Now you're just a whimpering mess. What happened?"

You felt Scaramouche slide his dick into your pussy then. The thickness stretching you beyond capacity as you wince and feel yourself whine a little.

"Do you realize your place now cunt? Maybe this will teach you to talk with a little more respect towards your superiors."

He began to slowly thrust into you then. Your oversensitive cunt spasming with every thrust as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

Scaramouche leaned down to steal a kiss too. Shoving his tongue into your mouth as you held onto him. Swallowing up your cute and girlish moans of pleasure and pain as you dug your nails into his back and felt him quicken his pace.

He fucked against your cervix as he continued to press your knees upwards more as he got closer to finishing. Bringing your knees practically beside your head as he got a little rougher then. Forcing you into a sick mating press position as he claimed your virgin womb for himself.

Scaramouche groaned and bit your bottom lip a little as you felt him pour his hot seed into you after what felt like the longest hour of your life. His sadistic smirk widened as he pulled out of your bloody cum filled cunt.

"This will be your new job from now on. Don't bother refusing. You still owe me a debt. " He stuck his fingers in your dripping depths again.

"however, keep being as obedient as you were tonight and this sweet cunt might just pay it off sooner than you think."

#genshin impact #wanderer #wanderer x female reader #wanderer smut #genshin impact smut #smut #genshin smut #wanderer x reader #genshin wanderer #scaramouche smut #scaramouche #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #scara #scaramouche x female reader

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cntloup · 8 months ago

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Hi ^^ it's my first time requesting something, if you don't like the idea, feel free to turn down my request. Recently I've been reading your writings, particularly, pregnancy ones.

Then I remembered a kind of belief I saw on TikTok, about, if the father really really wanted to have a baby, he will get the pregnancy symptoms instead of the mother, and I imagined Simon getting the nausea, cravings... instead of reader, being annoyed of seeing her laughing at him.

Thanks <3

hiii<3 so this was an interesting idea thank you so much<333 and i had to do a little bit of research. apparently it's pretty common among men to have pregnancy symptoms when their partner is pregnant and it's called Couvade syndrome (sympathetic pregnancy). it's so cute and endearing imo :')

Simon having pregnancy symptoms during your pregnancy :')))

You’re both slumped on the couch in each other’s arms, exhaustion taking over your senses.

Simon has been experiencing morning sickness more than you recently and you’ve been taking turns in the bathroom for god knows how many hours until now.

His head rests on your chest as you caress his nape and run your fingers through his hair soothingly.

“You feeling any better?” you ask him quietly as you notice him dozing off.

He only hums and you start giggling, getting louder by the second until you can’t control it anymore.

“What are you laughing about?” he asks, voice muffled by your boobs which have been getting larger and more sensitive, slight irritation evident in his tone as your body vibrates with full-on belly laughter.

He whines and squeezes your sides lightly with his burly arms.

“Si, you haven’t noticed?” you ask, finally able to speak between laughs.

“What?”

“It’s like you’re the one who’s pregnant.” you giggle again at your own words.

“Shut up.” he chuckles.

“I’m serious. You were also eating peanut butter and pickles the other day!” you go on listing all his symptoms and giggling.

You reach down to rub your hand gently on his tummy as you’ve noticed it has been gaining a little bit of pudge over the last few months along with your belly growing.

“Maybe I should take some time off work to tend to my pregnant husband.” you mention with a smirk to annoy him a lil bit more :)

“I said shut up... fuckin’ hell...” he grumbles as he lifts his head to give you an annoyed look, but you notice the faint smile on his lips.

You grab his face and squish his cheeks between your hands, “You’re so cute, baby!” you mumble and bring him closer for a smooch, pulling away with a loud smack of your lips.

“I was just messing with you, love.” you murmur as you lean for a tender, loving kiss.

“I love you, Si.” you coo against his lips.

“Love you too, dove.” he responds with an adoring smile.

“... and I’m not pregnant.”

“You so are!”

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

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izurou · 2 years ago

Text

LOST IN THE FIRE FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI

synopsis: katsuki has never thought about children, but today the thought consumes him from the inside out, and so do you.

contains: female reader. adult pro hero bakugou. established relationship. unprotected sex. a creampie. parental themes ie; mentions of pregnancy and children + reader being a mother. kats has a raging breeding kink and is so super in love! 3.1k wc.

note: sounds so dramatic at the beginning but i swear it is not serious like that :c either way i hope you like it < 3

you drive katsuki insane.

sure, you have your moments—times when you’re unimaginably annoying and butt heads with him over every possible thing, but that’s not what drives him up the wall—it’s the thoughts.

the pesky, never ending thought of you. you’re always there—day or night, rain or shine, like a pretty little parasite living between his ears.

he almost mistook it for a quirk, the way you spread like wildfire through his brain, scorching every inch in the process—but he’s since learned that that was just his way of experiencing love, which, at the time seemed a lot worse.

to this day, you burn hot in his mind—an eternal flame that has no sign of dying out anytime soon.

some days you’re dull, a soft yellow hue flickering in the background as he’s on patrol—too focused on whatever bastard he’s pursuing to ignite the thought of you. some days you’re bright, a fiery orange blaze glowing behind his eyes as you kiss down his torso—intensifying the lower you go.

and every so often, you’ll do or say something that threatens an all out explosion inside his head.

“katsuki!” you gasp, cupping a hand over your mouth as you shuffle into the kitchen, where your boyfriend is tossing spinach into the blender.

“what?!” he whips his head around at light speed, worry woven into his tone as he immediately sifts through a file of the worst-case scenarios. did someone die?

“guess what i just found,” you mumble into your palm, staring down at your phone in the other.

his features soften out upon hearing your words, and who knows, maybe it will be your dramatics that tip him over the edge.

he’s pretty when he’s not wearing a frown—with the morning sun seeping through the window and painting a streak of light onto him, defining the discoloured scar in the middle of his chest, and causing the thin silver chain just above it to glint.

“jesus christ,” he rolls his eyes, turning back to his half assed, thrown together smoothie. last he heard, you were shopping online for groceries the two of you had to pick up later this afternoon—so that tomorrow’s smoothie doesn’t end up like this one, shit. “what?”

“guess!” you grin, clutching your phone near your heart in a display of love for your recent find.

“hell if i know,” he mumbles—the muscles on his back rippling as he slices the tops off of some strawberries. “that damn ice cream you always inhale?”

he’s not wrong in thinking you had been browsing the frozen treats, he knows you well, you’ll give him that—but you placed the order ten minutes ago, and found a new website to entertain you.

“no,” you huff, dragging your slippers against the tile as you inch closer, stopping beside him. “and i shared with you last time, thank you very much.”

“huh?” he wraps an arm behind you, momentarily resting his palm against your ass before pinching at the fat. “one bite isn’t sharing, princess.”

you choose to let that comment fall on deaf ears, quickly spinning the conversation back to where you want it as you hold your phone out.

“look!” you beam, watching his gaze travel over the screen. it’s a picture of a little black onesie with two tiny gauntlets on it, and the words baby dynamight printed in orange and green lettering.

“what about it?” he mutters, not giving anywhere near the amount of excitement as you had hoped.

he thinks he recalls hearing about this—probably had the design shoved in his face the minute he walked into the agency and absentmindedly gave the go ahead because, he didn’t, still doesn’t, and most likely will never give a shit about what other people put on themselves, or their children.

“it’s cute asshole,” you huff, a little disappointed, but not surprised by his reaction in the slightest. you lean your head against his shoulder, looking on as his big, strong hands cut through the fruit with the utmost care. “doesn’t it make you want to have babies?”

“no,” he says, lifting a strawberry halve over his shoulder and holding it for you to bite. “does it make you wanna have ‘em?”

“yeah,” you confess.

“yeah?” he’s in disbelief. to his knowledge, you’ve never expressed the desire to have children, and if he’s honest, katsuki isn’t sure that he even wants them—he’s never given much thought to the idea.

“yeah,” you repeat, biting the fruit out of his hand. you lift your head up and smile—making sure that he knows you really mean it. “a mini us would be so cute, don’t you think? as long as they don’t get your temper, or that resting bitch face of yours.”

how utterly cruel of you to tack on a snarky little comment like that, especially after such a heavy one. he doesn’t know if that’d be cute, he’s never imagined it—until now, that is. he swears he can feel his skin heating up at the mere thought of having a baby with you, and when he thinks about what he’d have to do—no, what he’d get to do to make that a possibility, his mouth goes bone dry.

he doesn’t want you to take his silence the wrong way though, and so he mutters out the one word he think he can manage.

“yeah.”

with that, he slaps the lid onto the blender and presses the power button, hoping to drown out any further thoughts on the matter.

⋆

katsuki spends the following hours thinking about you, specifically, about putting a baby in you. no matter what he does—from eating breakfast to sending a few emails, watching a movie with you to running all your errands together—he just can’t stomp out the embers from earlier that morning.

his thoughts carry over well into the late evening, though you’d never know how strong your effect really is—he’s too well versed in the world of fire and explosives to ever give himself away.

then again, he thinks there might be black smoke coming out of his ears when you invite him into the shower with you before bed—a horrible idea if he knows what’s good for him, but he doesn’t, so in he goes.

“katsuki, we should’ve bought it,” you blurt out, eyeing him up as he rinses the suds from his hair. the muscles along his torso stretch and twist with his movements—crashing waves against his skin that only further your cause.

“huh?” he gently shakes his head around, ridding his locks of any excess water before squinting at you through the one eye that didn’t wind up with shampoo residue in it.

“the baby onesie,” you clarify, snaking your arms around his waist and leaning against his chest in search of warmth—seeing as he’s hogging all the hot water. “what if it’s extinct by the time we have kids?”

we, you and him together.

honestly, he doesn’t know how you do it. he of all people should be indifferent to a little heat—but there you go again, burning him from the inside out.

“it’s my shit, can tell ‘em to make more,” he says, shifting your bodies around so that you’re under the stream of hot water—pure bliss for you both.

“a pink version?” you peer up, blinking through the droplets of water that flock to your eyelashes.

you want a little girl, is that it?

there’s a lump in his throat—another thick cloud of smoke, this time threatening to pour from his mouth. you being pressed up against him isn’t helping either, in fact, all you’re doing is sending all that heat south.

“anything you want, sweetheart,” he responds, pressing a rather short but passionate kiss to your lips—just enough to hold him over.

he’s quick to excuse himself after this, mumbling something about you taking for fucking ever to shave—which, while true, is not why he’s fleeing.

he needs a couple minutes to gather his bearings, to ask himself if he should really do this.

katsuki is responsible, whether it be a condom, or him pulling out the second he feels his cock start to twitch—he’s never finished inside you, but he’s always wanted to.

for him, it’s not the idea of getting you pregnant—that was the one reason he didn’t do it, because he wasn’t ready, nor did he know if a father was something he even wanted to become. instead, he gets off on the thought of him being the only one who gets to cum inside you—you’re his, and that’s one way he’d like to prove it.

however, now that you’ve so easily persuaded him into wanting a mini us—that possibility sounds a lot less like a consequence.

⋆

“‘bout damn time,” he scoffs, seeing as how it’s been over twenty minutes and you’re only just shuffling into the room now. “c’mere.”

you watch him sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed, patting his thigh as an invitation for you to come sit. you don’t know what he’s thinking—you’ve barely dried off, still wrapped in your towel and dripping onto the floor every now and then.

“yes?” you ask, holding the fabric tight against your body as you make your way over.

you come to a halt in front of him, seconds away from opening your mouth again to ask what it is he wants—but he pulls you down onto one of his thighs, spreading his legs so that you’re facing towards his vacant one.

“you really wanna have a baby with me?” he’s looking at you with tiny red hearts in his eyes, already sneaking his fingers beneath the fluffy white material sitting loosely on your thighs.

“of course i do,” you smile, how cute of him—like a little puppy begging for a treat. “maybe even two.”

your words set the hearts ablaze, forcing him to see nothing but you—and you might’ve meant of course i do in the future, but all he can see right now, is you.

he kisses you, letting his lips move against yours freely this time—letting his tongue explore your mouth at will. his middle finger dips between your folds, drawing a line from your clit down to the sticky mess waiting below.

you’re excited too.

he breaks the kiss upon feeling how wet you are, drawing his hand back and looking down to catch the little string of arousal that connects his finger to your cunt.

“katsuki!” you gasp, squeezing your legs together out of embarrassment. pressing up against him in the shower didn’t help your case either, clearly.

“want you just as fuckin’ bad,” he assures, gently urging you off his lap—just to tug you back on immediately after, this time to straddle him.

you let the towel pool at your waist, giving katsuki free reign over your tits—to which he swiftly pops one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple and tugging it between his teeth.

“katsuki please,” you sigh, rutting yourself against the bulge in his sweats as you fist a hand through the shorter hairs at the back of his head. you don’t have time for this.

“huh? please what? gonna need some more from you, baby,” he hums, looking up at you through hooded lids—his gaze a deep shade of crimson you’ve never seen before.

“fuck me,” you whine, tugging at his waistband. “please.”

a proud grin flashes across his face—no matter how many times he hears it, the sound of you asking to be fucked will forever be his favourite tune.

“move this shit,” he mumbles, tossing the excess fabric to the floor and running his hands down your sides, over your hips, and along the curve of your ass. “fuckin’ gorgeous.”

he tugs his sweats down just barely enough to free his cock—tip pink and wet, leaking onto his fingers as he lines himself up with your entrance. he runs the head of his cock between your folds, collecting a bit of you on his shaft before pushing in.

you’re warm, always welcoming him with a hug—a tight squeeze of your walls that makes it almost impossible for him to bottom out. he knows you need to adjust before he does that—the thickness of his cock proving to be too much every time.

“relax,” he orders, resting his hand at the base of your throat and kissing you once more—because he knows, all too well, that this combination will have you sinking down onto his shaft, melting into him completely.

once his cock is fully sheathed, and he has you right where he wants you—flush against him with your tits in his face, he gets ahead of himself, and makes the mistake of thinking about cumming in you a little too early.

“mmm, feels so good katsuki,” you babble as you start to move your hips, up and down over and over again, warm velvet walls dragging against the entire length of his cock.

and it’s as if someone cut off the oxygen to your bedroom, he feels like he can’t breathe—all he can do is stare, tunnel visioned on the spot where you and him connect.

he already wants to cum—wants to fill you to the brim, watch it come gushing out, and fuck it right back into you. the thought alone has the corners of his vision tingeing orange—a telltale sign that you’re taking over.

a couple more minutes of you bouncing on his cock, and he can feel a burn in his lower gut—this one much more familiar than the one inside his head. still, he might as well be pronounced dead on the spot when he glances down and sees the little ring of arousal you’re leaving at the base of his shaft.

“shit,” he breathes through gritted teeth—resting the crown of his head against your chest as he tries to hold it together.

being completely oblivious to just how close he is to turning to ash—you start to rub circles onto your clit, readying yourself to cum with him.

you start to flutter around his cock, mindlessly babbling about how close you are, about how you’re going to cum for him—and you feel so good, so warm and tight—but right as his cock begins to twitch, he lifts your hips up, and off.

“fuck, fuck,” he pants, chest heaving as he stares down, watching his precious cum spurt from his tip and run down the sides of his shaft. what a waste.

“katsuki,” you drawl, soft and sweet as you brush the hairs matted to his forehead back. “what’s wrong? too much?”

if he’s honest, he doesn’t know why he did that—maybe it was instinct, something he did out of pure habit, or maybe it was too much, something he didn’t want you to see up close.

“nothin’ baby,” he mutters, grabbing one of your wrists and pressing a kiss to it. you’re so cute, so thoughtful and sweet. “c’mon, switch with me.”

you’re quick to move, knowing exactly what he wants as you go from his lap to the bed. you get on your knees, lowering your chest until your tits are flush against the mattress and your ass is in the air—consequently putting your messy pussy on display.

“atta fuckin’ girl,” he praises, kicking his sweats away and grabbing onto your hips—pulling you back just a little to define the arch he loves to see so much.

his heartbeat pulses in the tips of his fingers as he slides back into you, and he knows, he’s not going to last—still sensitive from his previous orgasm.

he starts to thrust, and it’s just like before—the unmistakable feeling of being consumed, both physically and mentally.

it starts at his feet, the kind of numbness that can be compared to television static. it travels up his legs, bypasses his cock, continues up his torso, and ceases at his neck.

“please kats, cum in me,” you slur, a mindless plea thrown over your shoulder—but one that almost incinerates katsuki right there.

and he’s glad you can’t see him right now, he’s positive he’s never looked more pathetic—head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, and brows knit together in such a way that it makes him look like he’s about to cry.

in all of this, he knows that the one thing able to ground him is still you—and so he pulls you up, tugs on your arms until your back is flush with his chest. his skin is sticky, hot—save for the cool metal of his necklace pressing between your shoulder blades.

“fuck princess,” he growls—rough, coarse, and right against the shell of your ear.

“‘m close katsuki, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasp, cunt fluttering around him at an even faster rate than earlier.

a strangled moan rips from the back of his throat, uncharacteristic, he knows—but he’s never felt this good, never loved the burn as much as he does right now.

his grip tightens to an almost unbearable level, one hand on your throat, the other splayed across your tummy. his breathing is an absolute mess, a string of breathy little pants against the crook of your neck. his heartbeat is everywhere—blaring in his ears, pounding in his chest, throbbing through his cock—and he cums.

he cums hard, face scrunching up as he feels you pulsing on his length, vision going white as he feels his warmth shoot out—it feels so fucking good.

you fall flat against the mattress, resuming your earlier position and snapping katsuki back to reality as you force him to slip out of you.

his eyes are glossed over as he looks down, and it feels like a lifetime passes as he stares at your cunt, waiting—but it comes, his cum, sticky and white as it leaks onto the sheets.

“fuck,” he’s barely audible, with an incredulous look on his face—bringing his index and middle finger up to spread your lips and coax more of himself out. nothing could be hotter, he’s damn sure of it.

satisfied, he flops down onto his back beside you, and he feels calm—like he’s comfortably walking down the streets of his brain as they continue to go up in flame—like he’s in control.

“well?” you say, curling up into yourself as you look at your big, strong, fucked out boyfriend.

“you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he hums, gaze never leaving the ceiling. “gonna be a perfect mom.”

“fucked you that good, huh?”

he turns his head to the side, what the fuck written all over his furrowed brows and scowl, because no—he fucked you, and you know it.

“shaddup,” he groans, playfully placing his palm over your face and pushing gently.

he sits up, leaning over the edge of the bed to grab that towel from earlier—he knew it’d come in handy later.

“hey,” you call out.

he peers over his shoulder at you, and you have definitely, never looked more beautiful.

“maybe even three?”

#izurou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha x reader #no one knows how bad i wanted to make reader say “that was fire” as the last sentence #can u imagine lmfao

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sl-ut · 9 months ago

Text

like real people do

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

description: abby is one hundred percent, totally, and completely straight. that is, until she meets y/n.

warnings: UNEDITED, swearing, slight hints of nsfw, alcohol consumption, a hint of homophobia? (not really but just in case)

words: 5.9K

date posted: 08/02/24

The years had not been kind to Abby. By the time that she and her friends were celebrating her twenty-first birthday, the woman had suffered many losses; the death of her mother at a young age, her father’s murder a few years back, and most recently, her breakup with Owen. She was quick to discover that the universe was not exactly on her side.

From her perspective, Owen was not just a boyfriend. Of course, he was hardly even that at most times, but he also represented the time in her life where everything was good; Salt Lake City, spending time in the woods with him and her dad, playing stupid little games to pass the time with him, Manny, and Mel…he reminded her of when everything was easier. She sometimes felt guilty for this, considering that she sometimes couldn’t tell whether her emotional attachment to him was because of how much she cared for him or for the impossible standards she’s always held him to.

Seattle represented a new beginning for her and her friends. They were able to find a new community, stay together, and live a semi-normal life that even the Fireflies were unable to offer them. Things were good there, people generally liked her, and she was quickly making her way up the ranks as one of the top WLF soldiers, though there were certainly some downsides. At the WLF compound, she began to see things in a new light; She was able to focus on herself for once, do the things that she wanted and branch out more than before. She was no longer limited to the small world of the few Fireflies who actually made it out of Salt Lake City.

It’s for this reason that she holds herself at least somewhat accountable for how things ended with Owen. Of course, she didn’t blame herself for his infidelity, nor for him choosing to do so with one of her closest friends, but she knew that it was her distance that caused the rift to form between them. She felt betrayed by them, obviously, but as time passed, it seemed clear to her that she was more hurt by the fact that it was her two closest confidants who had caused the pain, not the fact that Owen and Mel had been sleeping together for months before she and Owen called it quits.

Her saving grace during this period of her life came in the form of someone she would later consider her best friend, despite how offended Manny gets each time she calls her that. Her first interaction with Y/n was the moment that she knew she needed to have her in her life, one way or another.

She hadn’t noticed her right away, but who would? Amidst the thunderous crowd of the cafeteria just before lunch, it would be nearly impossible to notice anyone who she wasn’t directly looking for, which in a way, is how Abby noticed her to begin with. Manny was actually the one to sniff her out first, as he so often did with pretty girls, his midnight black hair standing out against the white fluorescent lighting. She beelined for him, an annoyed expression crossing her features as she figured out the reason why he’d been late for patrol.

“Manny!” She barked, “How many times do I have to drag your ass to the gate before you actually show up on ti–”

Her attention was immediately caught by the figure sitting across the table from him, eyes falling on a young woman with a look of shock on her face, clearly concerned by the large woman who’d nearly pulled Manny out of his seat with only one hand.

“Abby!” He greeted, doing his best to brush it off, “I was just on my way to meet you when I got distracted by this one,” He winked at the girl with a laugh, “Don’t blame me, it’s entirely her fault. Cierto, hermosa?”

Every engorged muscle in Abby’s body had to hold her back from physically gagging at his obnoxious charm, but she was a bit relieved to see that the girl did not seem to be falling for it so easily.

“Whatever,” the blonde shook her head, trying to suppress any of the nerves that seemed to have wormed their way into her bloodstream under the girl’s stare, “We’re late, and I’m not taking anymore shit from Isaac over you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He shrugged, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he began to head towards the door, offering a short goodbye to the girl before jogging to catch up with the blonde, who’d sped off in an attempt to get herself away from the girl.

“Cute, right?” He asked, a knowing smirk on his lips.

She shrugged, “Yeah, your standards seem to be on the rise, finally. What ever happened to the medic–what was her name again? Ginger?”

“Me and Y/n? In my dreams, sure,” He stared at her with a raised brow, “I’m not exactly…her type.”

Something clicked in her mind, and made the twisting feeling in her gut worsen. Goosebumps prickled at her skin as she thought back on the roaming stare of the girl in the cafeteria–Y/n, as Manny had called her. Had she been checking Abby out? And why did that idea excite her so much?

“Oh,” she hummed.

“You, however… you definitely were. Did you see the way she was looking at you? Like she wanted you to–”

“Shut up, would you?” She sneered, “I’m not–that’s not–”

“I know,” he sighed, though a knowing look crossed his features, “I know.”

A few days had passed before Abby had run into Y/n again, only this time, it was a much more pleasant interaction. Abby had been spending a lot of time in the library, especially since her breakup with Owen and even ended up sleeping there some nights when Manny took the liberty of reserving the room for himself and whatever girl he was dating at the time. She found some peace there, burying her nose into random books from before the outbreak and pretending that, for just a few minutes, she isn’t just the top scar killer in the WLF. There was hardly ever anyone else there, which was a definite plus; She still had a long way to go before she’d be used to all the attention she gets around the arena. This day in particular. though, someone else occupied her usual seat in the furthest corner, by the window.

She jumped in surprise at the sight of another person in her place, holding her palm to her chest to hold in any noise that may have emitted from her throat. The girl raised her head to look over the thick spine of the hardcover book she was reading, surprise evident on her own face as well.

“Sorry,” Abby choked out, “I just wasn’t expecting…I’m usually the only one here.”

“Oh,” Y/n sat up straighter, laying her book page-down on the table in front of her, “Yeah, I usually take the book back to my room, but my roommate is a little…busy at the moment.”

Abby snorted, “I get what you mean. Mine too.”

There was a beat of silence before Y/n chimed in again, “What are you reading?”

Abby glanced down at the book in her hand, eyes scanning over the faded words on the cover. She actually hadn’t known what book she’d taken off the shelf, just slowly making her way through every book in the library, “Uh, Jane Air–Eyre. First one I grabbed.”

“That’s a good one,” Y/n nodded, “One of the classics, I think they used to call them.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Abby mentally kicked herself, of course she would completely blank in front of the girl she’d been thinking about all week (but she was still, totally not into her). “Uh, what about you?”

Y/n smiled, “A Complete History of the Western World. Call me nostalgic, but I like learning about how things were before.”

“Me too,” Abby smiles, “In a way, it’s kinda comforting to see that this isn’t how things always were, you know?”

Y/n grinned, which quickly turned into a frown, “Sorry, I didn’t even…I’m Y/n.”

Abby smiled tightly, cheeks burning red as she reached forward to accept the hand offered to her, “I’m–”

“Abby,” Y/n smiled bashfully, “I know. You’re Manny’s friend, and sort of a big deal around here.”

Abby shrugged, the red of her cheeks now stretching to reach the tips of her ears, “Yeah, that’s what everyone seems to say. Not sure if I really live up to that expectation, though.”

Y/n chuckled before glancing down at her cracked wrist watch, a wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows as she closed her book and stood up from her seat, “Sorry, not trying to run away from you or anything, just lost track of time. Talk to you later, Abby.”

The next few weeks passed with several more interactions between the pair, and Abby would actually consider Y/n to be a friend. They could often be found in the library together, or grabbing a bite to eat with one another and sometimes a few others. Manny often grumbled about Abby swooping in and stealing his friends, but he always seemed to be more than happy to see the two of them together. That strange feeling did not disappear, though, like Abby thought it would. In fact, it got considerably worse.

Instead of having a little bit of nerves around her, Abby was struggling to keep herself from constantly pulling her into her lap, or reaching out to hold her hand across the table, or to tell her how deeply in love with her she wa–except Abby is straight. She likes guys. She dated Owen, and she was deeply hurt by his betrayal, right?

That’s what she told herself. Each longing to touch Y/n was just her own loneliness talking, every time she wanted to be held, it was her basic human need for affection, not because she was romantically or sexually interested in another woman. In fact, she had a little bit of a crush on one of the guys she went on patrol with the other day, or so she told Y/n. She made an effort to make it abundantly clear to the girl that there would be no romantic relationship between them, and was relieved when Y/n didn’t seem to put off by it. She continued to hang out with her, and to invite her to different social events around the arena.

This one was different, though. Abby went, fully intending to spend the night by Y/n’s side, people watching and making fun of Manny as he struck out time and time again. She had arrived to the party with Nora, a bit of pep in her step as she slid into the common area, face falling as she immediately took notice of Y/n on the couch across the room, a soft smile on her face as she listened intently to whatever the girl next to her was saying, her arm curled loosely around Y/n’s shoulders.

Abby felt sick, almost giving in to the instinct to turn and run, and she is positive that if it hadn’t been for Nora being right behind her, she probably would have. She hesitantly stepped further into the room, glancing around awkwardly in hopes of finding someone to hide her from Y/n before she could catch her attention, though it only took a moment’s glance for Y/n to turn her head and shout, waving both Abby and Nora over to where she and the other girl were sitting.

The girl’s name was Samyah, and Abby decided on the spot that she hated her. She hated the way that she talked, the way she dressed, they way she smelled, the way that Y/n looked at her, and most of all, she hated the way that she held Y/n’s hand as she led her out of the common room, hooded eyes making it clear what was about to happen. But it didn’t really matter, because Abby is straight and this wasn’t going to last anymore than one night.

Except it did. Weeks later, Samyah was still very present in Y/n’s life. Abby cringed every time she had to witness them kiss, or touch each other in any way beyond what could be considered platonic. She prayed every night that something would happen, that Samyah would cheat or die out on patrol, anything to have her away from Y/n for more than a few hours at a time, but when it really happened, she couldn’t help but fear that she may have willed it into existence–Abby wasn’t a religious person, but this seemed to be a bit too on the nose for it to not have been divine intervention.

Y/n and Samyah had been hooking up for a few weeks when Y/n turned up at Abby’s room, cheeks glossy with tear stains and eyes burning red. Abby was quick to take her into her arms, ignoring the selfish part of her that was singing at the mere contact. She held her tightly, sitting her down on the edge of her bed and stroking the back of her head soothingly, waiting for her to tell her what had happened.

“Let me know when you’re ready to talk,” She had whispered into her hair before pressing a firm kiss there.

It was less than a moment later when a sharp sniff could be heard and Y/n’s watery voice began to retell what had taken place earlier that evening.

“Samyah has a boyfriend, apparently,” She wept, “She told me she isn’t gay, she just wanted to see what it was like.”

Abby’s entire body burned hot with anger, and then with embarrassment. What would Y/n think if she were to tell her that she’d been wondering the same thing? How would she be able to move forward knowing fully-well that she was no different from Samyah, someone who she had been condemning over the way that she treated Y/n?

But was it the same? Was it really? Since she had met Y/n, she hadn’t even glanced twice at Owen, let alone any other man. She was all she could think about, day and night, and yet she still couldn’t seem to come to terms with the fact her feelings for her might have been more than platonic. It wasn’t as if she were too ashamed or was actually against the idea of her dating another woman, she was just confused as to why these feelings hadn’t come up before. Sure, there were times where she thought Mel was the prettiest girl she’d ever seen, but that was back when there weren’t many other girls around (and she wasn’t screwing her Abby’s boyfriend), and there was once where she’d had a rather promiscuous dream about Nora, but nothing had ever evolved further than that.

These thoughts started to keep her up at night. She liked Y/n, she really did, but was it worth risking her friendship only for Abby to decide that she wasn’t gay at all? What if she was just curious? It was normal for people her age to be interested in exploring these things, only she was sort of stuck in a situation where she was unable to. She couldn’t go to Y/n for help with this, that much was blatantly obvious, but what about someone else? She tried to think of other girls she could go to for help, but there was no one who she could immediately think of that she could go to without also risking her friendship with Y/n; she’d been insistent early on in their friendship that she was not interested in women at all, especially when Y/n made it clear that she most certainly was, and more precisely, in Abby, so what would she think if she found out that Abby had slept with another woman after insisting that she wasn’t interested? That might be more dangerous than going to her for help.

It was getting harder to ignore, as well. Y/n was increasingly dependant on Abby for comfort for weeks after she ended things with Samyah, not that Abby minded, but it was growing more difficult not to hold her to her chest as they share a pillow every night, to not reach out and take her hand every time they walk side-by side, to not push her onto the bed every time she undresses in front of her, to pin her down and–

Then Y/n moved on. She was still quite upset, but she had decided that she wasn’t going to spend any more time dwelling on someone who obviously did not care about her, so she met Reagan. Abby didn’t hate Reagan the same way that she had with Samyah, she clearly liked Y/n and treated her as well as she could, considering that they were in the middle of the apocalypse. She was funny, and she fit in with the rest of their friends better than Abby would have liked; she wanted to hate her so much, but the only reason she could think of was purely out of selfishness, that being the fact that Y/n spending time with Reagan meant that she was not spending time with Abby, and after a few weeks of near constant contact with one another, Abby was sure she was going through withdrawals.

It all came to a head when Manny demanded that she take some time off of patrol. With Reagan always around, she had taken it upon herself to start accepting extra duties to avoid having to spend time with the group, and more specifically, Y/n. He’d made some arrangements and assigned someone else to her shift without even telling her, and all but dragged her down the hall and into the rec room. Y/n and Reagan had yet to arrive, but Abby knew that, if she was going to be forced to sit and watch Reagan practically hang off of the girl that she was probably in love with, she was gonna need a drink.

Abby wasn’t normally a big drinker. In her early days in the WLF, there had been a few times where she’d had more than she probably needed, but it also meant that she didn’t necessarily have the highest tolerance, especially with Manny being the one mixing her drinks. He’d been more than excited when Abby went for her second drink, and decided that they needed to go drink for drink with one another. Needless to say, by the time Y/n arrived, Abby was drunk.

“Abs!” The voice sounded excited as they curled their arms around Abby’s neck from behind, leaning over the back of the sofa she was sitting on to hug her warmly, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

It almost felt like time had stopped the moment her eyes landed on Y/n, admiring the glint of the dim lights on her clean skin. Her hair was still damp, she’d just showered before coming to the party, and Abby couldn’t help but wish she’d also done so by the pooling of sweat on her forehead and palms. She leaned her head back against her shoulder, turning to glide her nose against her neck in a much more affectionate manner than she would have if she had been sober.

“Hi,” She mumbled, “You smell good.”

“It’s the lotion we found on patrol a few weeks ago,” Y/n laughed, “And you’re drunk.”

Abby shrugged, “No, just a little tipsy.”

Nora scoffed out a laugh as she plopped down on the armchair next to her, “Tipsy? Please, she’s been letting Manny mix her drinks all night.”

Y/n pulled away, leaving Abby to let out a small whine of defeat, “Uh oh. Something must be wrong to have you drinking Manny’s concoctions.”

“Hey!” The latino appeared seemingly out of thin air, “You’ve just lost yourself drink privileges.”

She raised her hands in surrender, “Not the threat you think it is, pendejo.”

Y/n threw herself onto the couch next to Abby, settling close enough for their arms to press against one another and sending Abby into what she assumed could only be early heart failure.

“Seriously though, where’ve you been?”

The blonde shrugged once more, “Busy, I guess. Lots of patrols needed to be covered.”

“So you covered…all of them?”

Abby was quiet for a moment, then quickly changed the subject, “Where’s Reagan? Aren’t you two basically attached at the hip or something?”

The smile on Y/n’s face flickered for a beat, and Abby immediately felt a pang of guilt squeeze at her stomach and regret filled her for hurling such a harsh tone at her.

“Something came up,” Y/n turned her gaze to her interlocked fingers in her lap, “She’s not gonna make it.”

Abby recognized a familiar sadness in her voice, one that she had hoped to never hear again, so she dropped the topic and instead found herself falling into a conversation similar to one they would have had before Reagan came into the picture. Things felt right again, especially as Y/n’s hand grasped onto her thick bicep everytime she laughed, and she didn’t push her hand away when she reached over and rested it on her knee–that had to mean something, right?

After Abby finished her fifth drink, things began to get too fuzzy for her to handle, her head dropping back onto the back of the couch with a grunt, her eyes squinting shut in a weak attempt to refocus herself. Y/n glanced up at her, concern painting her features as she reached a hand up to stroke Abby’s flushed cheek.

“You feeling okay?”

Abby grunted in response, leaning her cheek even further into her hand.

Y/n chuckled at her, pulling herself away to stand up and taking hold of Abby’s hand. The blonde’s eyes popped open at the contact, staring up at the girl with hooded eyes as she attempted to pull her to her feet. Abby pushed herself up, forcing her entire body weight into Y/n’s figure faster than she could have anticipated, almost knocking them both to the floor.

“Woah, steady girl,” Y/n laughed, slinging one of her arms over her shoulder, “I think it’s time to get you to bed, don’t you think?”

Abby nodded sleepily, allowing her to pull her along down the hallway, thankfully not having to climb any stairs to Abby’s room with the girl who was 95% muscle on her back. She was able to get her into the room and seated on her mattress with very little trouble–Abby was very compliant with every order that came out of her mouth.

She sat back, allowing her to wipe a wet cloth over her face gently, her eyes struggling to stay open even though she was eager to see her face up close and personal once more.

“Can I ask you something?” She murmured quietly, using every ounce of her strength to keep herself from moaning under Y/n’s touch.

“Of course.”

She paused for a moment, almost like she was thinking it over, though she had no control over the words that spilled out of her mouth, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Y/n stopped her movements, causing Abby’s eyes to shoot open and fall on the grinning face before her. She laughed softly, then louder until her laughter filled the room and bounced off of the walls.

“Sorry, sorry,” she lifted a hand to cover her mouth to contain her giggles, “That’s just not what I was expecting. But,” Y/n reached around and tugged the elastic out of Abby’s blonde hair, carefully untwisting the braid until her long hair settled around her shoulders, “I think you are very pretty.”

She smiled, mumbling out a quiet thank you.

“I have another question.”

“I think it’s only fair that I get to ask you one first.”

Abby raised her eyebrows, but was quick to nod in agreement.

Y/n leaned back against the footboard of Abby’s bed, setting the cloth aside, “Why’ve you been ignoring me lately?”

“I’m not–” the blonde argued, pausing to compose herself, “I’m not ignoring you. I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?”

“Abby.”

The blonde girl winced at her stern tone, wary of meeting her gaze, “Look, it’s not like I don’t wanna be around you, it’s just…”

Don’t say it, her very sober subconscious was pleading with her, please.

Her drunk mouth didn’t listen, “Reagan.”

“Reagan?” Y/n frowned, “What about her?”

A small smile appeared on Abby’s lips, “Nuh-uh, it’s my turn.”

Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance, but urging her to ask nonetheless.

“Do you love her?”

“Do I–Abby, why are you asking me this?”

Her bashful eyes fell to her lap, “I think you know why.”

“No, Abby I don’t–”

Her words were silenced, a hum of shock vibrating through her throat as Abby lurched forward, lips pressing sloppily against her own. Y/n froze, neither pulling away nor reciprocating, just remaining in place until Abby pulled away for air.

Abby smiled, resting her forehead against Y/n’s softly. She was drunk, yes, but she had never felt more sober and in-tune with her own feelings as she was then, just after kissing the girl she was so hopelessly in love with for the very first time.

The spell she was under broke the moment her eyelids fluttered open, allowing her to spot the hooded stare and tear-stained cheeks of the girl in front of her.

“Y/n? What’s–”

“You’re drunk, Abby,” she scowled, pushing herself away, “You should go to bed.”

“What? I just–No, please don’t go.”

Y/n turned to face her sharply, “Why? So you can use me for your own pleasure and then kick me to the curb?”

“What?”

“I mean–Jesus, Abby. You were there after Samyah. You were the one who told me she was such a bitch, that I deserved better, but you’re doing the same goddamn thing. Worst of all, you know how I feel about you, but you made it very clear to me that you didn’t feel the same, so I backed off.”

“I love you,” She stammered out, “I-I’m in love with you.”

Y/n laughed bitterly, shaking her head.

“Please,” Abby, fell to the floor as she tried to push her body off of the bed, “I’m telling you the truth. I-I didn’t know before, but I do now.”

Y/n sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose to collect herself, turning to face her once more before fleeing the room, “Go to bed, Abby. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Except they didn’t talk the next day. Or the one after that. Abby basically avoided Y/n like the plague after doing what she did. How could she? Everything that Y/n had said to her was true, she’d known it for weeks. Hell, it was the exact reason why she hadn’t made a move on her sooner.

She knew she couldn’t escape her forever, though. The WLF stadium was pretty big, but they would both be living there for the rest of their (hopefully long) lives and would be bound to run into each other at some point in that time. She was also already in a fairly deep state of depression because of what had happened between the two of them, but also because of how much she just missed having her around.

Which is why she found herself outside Y/n’s bedroom door after returning from a particularly risky patrol that had ended in only four of them returning from a group of seven. Abby was shaky as she made her way back inside the compound, her muscles screaming with every step and her body begging her for a shower and a long sleep, but her feet mindlessly carried her in the opposite direction of her own room. Her fist rapped against the thin wood before she could even process it, but she couldn’t run away now, not when she’d been pinned under a scar only an hour ago with a knife to her throat.

Y/n looked a bit dishevelled as she opened the door, and Abby immediately thought the worst; had she really just shown up at her door at night? What if Reagan was in there? What had Y/n been doing in there when she knocked? Had Abby really interrupted her having sex with someone else?

But the lazy yawn that escaped her puffy lips forced Abby to realise that, no, she hadn’t interrupted her with someone else, she’d woken her up, which somehow made her feel worse.

“Abby?”

“Sorry, uh, is this a bad time?” She shifted her weight back and forth nervously.

“No, I was just–no, it’s not,” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, “You’ve been avoiding me. Again.”

“I know,” Abby frowned, “I’m sorry. For everything. You have every right to be mad at me–fuck, you have every right to never wanna talk to me again, but I just have to let you know how sorry I am and how much you mean to me.”

Y/n shifted her gaze to the floor for a moment before nodding, glancing back up at Abby and stepping back to open the door wider, “Wanna come in?”

Abby nodded eagerly, stepping inside with caution. She glanced around, taking in the small changes that had been made since she’d last been here. Y/n bedroom was, well, hardly even a bedroom. It was about the size of a large broom closet, just enough room to jam two twin beds and two small dressers inside, though she and her roommate had taken the initiative to make it somewhat cosy inside. Thankfully, the second bed was empty that night, meaning that she didn’t have to hold back.

“Wanna sit?” Y/n motioned to the foot of her bed as she took a seat near the headboard.

“Uh,” Abby glanced down at her dirty attire, “I shouldn't. Sorry, I didn’t even change before I came here–fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Y/n shook her head, “Hey, it’s okay, Abs. We can sit on the floor?”

The blonde’s shoulders loosened at the use of that nickname, almost like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she lowered herself to sit directly across from Y/n on the carpeted floor.

It was quiet for a beat, both of the girls sitting in silence as they watched, both anxiously waiting to see who would speak first.

“Did you mean it?” Y/n was the first to crack.

“Did I mean…”

“You know what I’m talking about. You were drunk, but you avoided me like a clicker, Abby, so please don’t play dumb and just talk to me.”

Abby cleared her throat, “Yes. I meant it.”

Y/n let out a heavy breath, and Abby couldn’t tell if she was relieved or even more upset with her answer, “Okay, so you meant it. But why couldn’t you just tell me that? You knew how I felt about you when we first met, but you told me you weren’t interested so that was that.”

Abby shook her head, “It wasn’t like that. When we first met, I was…still dealing with how things ended with Owen. I was angry and hurt, and I really thought I would never get over it. But then, after a little while, I started to realise that I wasn’t heartbroken over him, I was angry that he and Mel didn’t have the decency to talk to me before they started fucking behind my back.”

“Okay,” Y/n nodded, “But after that? Is it some kind of internalised homophobic shit going on? If it is, you could’ve talked to me about it, I could’ve helped you.”

“It’s not that. It wasn’t that I was scared or ashamed of myself, it was that I didn’t even really think about it, I guess. Then, when I finally did, you were with Samyah, and then that ended and you were so upset, and that got me thinking that…I don’t know, what if I was the same as her? What if I was just wanting to experiment? I didn’t wanna talk to you about it because I didn’t wanna lose you, and I didn’t want you to think that I was the same as her,” Abby could feel her eyes stinging from the sudden onset of tears, “And then by the time I realised that that wasn’t the case, you were already with Reagan.”

Y/n opened her mouth to speak, but Abby cut her off.

“I know, you’re with her, and if that’s what you want, then that’s fine. I want you to be happy. But I can’t leave here knowing that I didn’t tell you that I am in love with you, so much that I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

Y/n didn’t answer, not verbally. Instead, she threw herself across the room, clambering into Abby’s lap and messily pressing her lips against hers. Abby was quick to reciprocate, her lips moving against hers steadily and conforming the once sloppy movements into a more slow and rhythmic embrace. Her arms moved to wrap around her waist, palms sliding up and down her back greedily as Y/n gently took Abby’s flushed cheeks into her own hands.

When they finally pulled away, they both broke into wide grins, leaning in to peck each other once more.

“Reagan and I aren’t together. I guess I was just on the rebound and she was looking for a fling, but it’s over.” Y/n whispered, “ I love you too, so much that I do know what to do with myself.”

Abby laughed, eyes trailing down her body and finally settling on the dirt and mud and blood that had transferred from her own dirty clothes to Y/n’s.

“Shit, sorry, got you kinda dirty.”

Y/n glanced down at herself, then shrugged with a sly glint in her eye, “It’s okay. It just means that we’re both gonna have to go shower before bed, right?”

Abby stared at her in awe for a moment, brain finally catching up to her words as she jumped to her feet, hauling Y/n up into her arms as she began a quick march in the direction of the women’s showers, the otherwise quiet hallway being disturbed by Y/n’s squeal of surprise and laughter as the tall blonde carried her.

Though the laughter was certainly more bearable to the surrounding rooms than the sounds that echoed from the showers over the next hour, though Abby couldn’t find a single ounce of concern for the others in the moment, just glad that she was finally able to hold and touch and kiss Y/n, just like real people do.

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #lesbian #abby anderson #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson x you

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melon-fodder · 3 months ago

Text

What Friends Are For • T. Hiragi

Summary: Hiragi was annoyed when you bailed on the plans you had with him, but when finds you curled up with your heating pad, alone in your apartment he understands what happened, and now he wants to help.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: period sex, female-bodied reader, best friends to lovers, blood (obviously), cramps and other period symptoms, fingering, p in v, mentions of oral but it doesn’t happen (maybe next time)

Notes: this has been in my head for months now. It’s time to get it out. Special shout out to my nexplanon! Thanks for making me bleed for a solid month 😔✌🏻

Hiragi is annoyed.

Which isn’t uncommon for him, honestly, but it’s pretty rare that he’s annoyed with you.

You’d had these plans for a couple weeks now, a local band you both enjoy playing at a small venue downtown. You were excited. You had sent Hiragi all your different outfit options, and he’d given his honest opinions until you’d settled on the crop top, shorts, fishnets, and docs. He’d had to talk you out of the skirt you’d recently gotten— “I don’t wanna have to worry about creeps thinkin’ they can just slip their hands up there.”

“You don’t have to worry about me like that, Ragi,” you’d told him over the phone, “it’s not like I’m your girlfriend. You don’t have to defend my honor.”

A reminder that stings a little every time. You’re not his girlfriend, and he’s not your boyfriend, despite what everyone thinks and says. Despite everything that he feels.

None of that matters currently, though, because he’s pissed at you. Which is why he’s knocking on your apartment door to see what the fuck is wrong with you. Surely, there has to be something. It’s not like you to flake.

There’s some brief shuffling from inside before the door opens a crack, revealing a sliver of your face that looks… different.

“Ragi?” He just taps his foot until you open the door and let him in. “What’re you doing? I told you I can’t go out.”

The first thing he notices is that your eyes are a little puffy. Then, when he glances around your small living room, Hiragi sees that the TV is on, playing one of your favorite medical dramas—the one that’s just sex, surgery, and crying. You’re in a ratty old t-shirt (one of his, he’s pretty sure) and a pair of boy shorts that hug your hips and thighs too well.

“So what, you’re gonna skip out on this show so you can just sit here and watch TV?” His irritation has spiked again, familiar acid rising in his throat.

“What?” You peer at him like you’re confused then look back to the show and the little nest you’ve made yourself on your couch.

“It’s not… I wanna go. I just don’t think I’d have a good time.” Your face twists, both hands moving to your hips as you bend as if to stretch your back.

You’re acting weird.

“How do you know you’re not gonna have a good time?”

“Hiragi…” you say his name like a warning, and something new clicks into place.

You don’t feel well. The puffy eyes, the comfy clothes— “are ya sick or somethin’?”

You grimace, still bending and stretching while digging your thumbs into your lower back.

“No, I just— fuck, I need to lay back down.”

He watches as you walk to the couch and pull something out from under the mass of blankets, click a remote a couple times, then settle it against your back.

“I wanna go to the show, Ragi. And I’m not sick.” He can see the muscles of your jaw flex when you clench your teeth. “My fucking period is just kicking my ass tonight, okay?”

Oh. Oh. Okay.

“That… makes more sense, I guess,” Hiragi mutters, feeling much less irritated and much more foolish. “Can I get you anything?”

“A hysterectomy?” you joke, though it sounds more like begging.

“If I was qualified, you know I would.”

He can’t find it in himself to look at you. It’s not like Hiragi isn't familiar with periods. He’s had girlfriends and friends who are girls and, ya know, a mother.

He’s just—it’s just—you never bring it up around him. You’ve never mentioned cramping or bleeding or cravings related to it. He doesn’t even think he’s ever seen a tampon in your purse or your bathroom (not that he’s looked, it’s just something he’s noticed).

You must be able to see the confusion written all over his face. Or maybe you just know him too fucking well because with a heavy sigh, you explain, “I switched birth controls a couple months back. I didn’t have periods at all on my old one, but this one… anyway, I’m not used to the pain and everything else.”

This is a problem. You have a problem, Hiragi thinks, one that he can fix or, at the very least, help you with. Hiragi is good at fixing things. He’s good at finding solutions. So if he can just shove all of his awkwardness and discomfort to the side, he can focus on what’s important: making you feel better.

“You have pain killers?”

You shake your head.

“Menstrual products?”

You snort. “What?”

“Pads, tampons—”

“I know what they are, dummy,” you laugh, “just sounds weird when you say it like that. Menstrual products,” you imitate, and Hiragi rolls his eyes.

“Do you have any?”

You shrug, “not enough, but I use a disk anyway.”

Now is not the time for questions.

“Alright. I’ll be right back then,” he tells you before turning around to walk out.

“Wait! Where are you… nevermind,” he hears you mumble before the door shuts. If you know him as well as he thinks you do, you should have a pretty good idea of where he’s headed.

The little drug store at the corner doesn’t exactly offer luxury, but it’s stocked with what Hiragi needs. The girl behind the counter gives him a knowing look as she rings everything up and asks if he’d like to buy one of the mini flower bouquets that are displayed next to the register.

Tempting.

But it’s not like that.

“Nah, just this,” he says as he pulls out his wallet, the one you tease him about so much (“what is this, 2000? Get rid of the chain, old man!”).

It isn’t long before he’s walking back into your apartment like he lives there. Sometimes it feels like he does. Hiragi drops the bags on your coffee table and starts taking things out.

Medicine, the kind with added caffeine to help with headaches and energy. A box of tampons, regular and super. A box of pads just in case. Your favorite chocolates. A pint of ice cream he needs to put in the freezer ASAP, and…

“Is that a—”

“It’s not some dumb little plushie,” Hiragi immediately grabs what definitely looks like a dumb little plushie. “It’s got a rice pack in it, see? So you can heat it up and—”

“Cuddle with it?” You grin. “Is there a reason it’s an alligator? I feel like that’s not very period friendly.”

“It was an alligator or a crab,” he calls out, walking to the kitchen. “You want crabs?”

“No, I do not want crabs,” you shout. “But, I’m just sayin’. It’s a little suspicious you coming back with a plushie—”

“Not a plushie!”

“—that sort of resembles you that you want me to cuddle with.”

Hiragi leans to the side so that you can see him. “You associating me with every animal that has sharp teeth is your problem, not mine.”

The microwave timer goes off, prompting him to take out the rice pack and stick it back in the soft alligator. There’s a nice little weight to it, and it’s pleasantly warm by the time he hands it to you, still pouting about your teasing.

He moves your legs so that he can sit on the couch then resituates them on top of his own thighs, getting comfortable and trying not to smile when you press the plushie (yeah, that’s what it is) to your stomach and sigh.

“That’s nice.”

“Just lemme know when it needs to be reheated.”

“So, you’re just gonna sit here all night watching shitty medical dramas and reheating my hiragator?”

“Yeah, I—wait, what?”

“You heard exactly what I said,” you glare in that playful way you do, squeezing the heated toy tighter to you.

“You cannot name it Hiragator.”

“Alligatoma?”

“That sounds like a fuckin’ cancer.”

“So, Hiragator it is. Now that that’s settled, you can go to the show.”

Hiragi leans back on the couch and rubs his hands down his face before dropping them back to your calves.

“S’not gonna be fun without you,” he grumbles.

“Bullshit. You’ll be able to get into the pit without worrying about me.”

“I’m not eighteen anymore,” he chuckles. “There ain’t a single bone in my body that wants to get into a mosh pit.”

Your pretty smile disappears as your fingers dig into plush green fur, and Hiragi watches in concern as you curl further in on yourself. Trying not to disturb you too much, he reaches for the bottle of medicine and pours 2 out, glad that your water bottle is next to you on the floor.

“Here,” he urges, holding the pills out to you. You prop yourself up on your elbow to take them before collapsing back on the cushions.

“Seriously, you don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be fine.”

“Not like I have anything better to do,” he shrugs and changes the subject, “what episode are we on?”

“I started over so it’s the one where she’s dating Derek and the vet at the same time, and she’s getting stressed out about it.”

“Oh, when she has to get her appendix taken out?”

“Look at you remembering the details,” you giggle.

“I’ve probably seen it five damn times now, how could I forget?”

For the next hour, Hiragi sits with you, occasionally unwrapping a chocolate and handing it to you, sometimes rubbing your legs when you get that pained expression, trying not to think about how soft you feel and how he could get used to having you curled up next to him.

When he realizes the medicine either hasn’t kicked in or isn’t doing it’s fucking job, Hiragi finally braves the question, “did anything help before? I’m guessin’ you had periods before your old birth control, so what’d you do back then?”

“I don’t remember them being this bad, honestly, but sometimes when I’d have bad cramps…” you shake your head. “Never mind. Too much information.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You’d probably think it’s gross.”

Well, now his interest is definitely piqued.

“Just tell me.”

He gives your calf a tiny pinch that makes you squeal, “fine,” while kicking his thigh. “When I was, like, sixteen, one of my friends told me that orgasms helped her when she was in a lot of pain, so I tried it.”

Hiragi’s mouth is suddenly very, very dry, but he still manages to ask, “and did it help?”

“Yeah, quite a bit, actually.”

He feels warm, like he’s touching your heating pad. Is he sweating? His face is probably beet red. Thinking about you like that, trying to relieve the tension in your body, fingers between your legs—

Stop. Stop thinking about it. He can already feel his dick stirring to life, and that is the last thing you should have to put up with right now.

“I told you you’d think it was gross.”

Hiragi sets his jaw and shakes his head.

“You’ve got a natural painkiller. Why not use it?” It’s a miracle his voice is coming out as smoothly as it is.

“Cause it’s… it’s weird doing it when you’re not in the mood, I guess. And, like, it can get a little messy.”

Fucking Christ.

“It’s hard to masturbate when you don’t feel sexy, and it’s hard to feel sexy when you’re cramping and bloated and weepy.”

“Makes sense,” Hiragi nods to himself, tracing little patterns on your leg, brain completely empty aside from the thought, I could do it for you.

“What?”

Ah, shit. He’s usually so good at thinking through things before saying them out loud, but apparently the pathway from Hiragi’s brain to his mouth chose this one fucking time to malfunction.

No taking that one back.

“I said I could do it for you,” he repeats.

“I’m sorry, just so we’re on the same page, you’re talking about…”

“Giving you an orgasm. Making you cum. However you wanna put it.”

He shifts your legs a little further away from the growing bulge in his pants.

Your eyes are wide, mouth hanging open, and he feels the need to defend, “just cause you said it helped before! If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just figured I’d offer.”

“I… honestly, I don’t know what to say. It’s been a while since anyone… and, I mean, it’d be weird, right? You and me? Plus, the blood, like… it’d be weird.”

“Whatever you say,” Hiragi hums. “I’m not scared of a little blood, though, just so we’re clear.”

“I never said you were. I know you’re very familiar with it, tough guy.”

“Pretty familiar with the female orgasm too, so you know.”

You make an undignified sound, something between a squawk and a shout that makes him laugh. “Telling me about your conquests isn’t gonna encourage me to let you stick your fingers up there!”

“I’m not gonna just stick ‘em up there, fuck, who have you been with that did that?”

“No one! I’m just saying!”

“Okay, Jesus, just watch your show.”

Hiragi makes a show of taking his hands off your legs and folds them behind his head. You somehow nestle deeper into the couch, hugging the alligator closer as you clench your teeth again.

How obvious would it be if he ran to the bathroom to rub one out? Would you be able to tell? He shouldn’t even need to. You barely talked about it.

But, the seed has been planted. The image of you on your bed with your knees open, your hand or maybe a toy rubbing over your sex.

Hiragi grabs a pillow and shoves it under your legs and therefore over his lap with the excuse that, “your heels are diggin’ into me.” That should take care of that for now.

About half an episode passes without the two of you saying anything, and when you do finally speak, it’s to quietly ask if he’ll reheat Hiragator for you.

“Only if you stop calling it that,” he says as he takes it from you.

“Never.”

He tosses it back into the microwave, of course, arms braced on the kitchen counter as he waits for the timer to go off. When he gets back, you have your eyes squeezed shut so tightly, it looks painful. There are tears right at the corners, and you’re taking slow, shaky breaths.

“Hey, hey, here,” he puts the plushie against your stomach and smooths a hand down your back, all the while wondering how the fuck you and every other uterus-having human puts up with this bullshit every month. It looks like hell.

“Ragi?” your voice cracks around his name.

He tilts his head, noticing your falling tears, and reaches over to wipe them away. “Hm?”

“You’re serious about helping me?”

He blinks at you. “You ever know me to be anything but serious?”

“I have seen very unserious sides of you. Sides that no one else sees.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t go thinkin’ you’re special or somethin’.”

“Special enough for you to make a very bold offer,” you shoot back with watery eyes and a raised brow.

“You ready to take me up on that?” He hopes he doesn’t sound too excited.

You nod emphatically, biting your lip while clutching that damn alligator like it’s your only lifeline.

“Alright, go get comfortable in bed. I’ll grab a towel.”

He helps you up, laughing through his nose when he hears you mutter something along the lines of, “can’t believe we’re doing this.”

You disappear into your bedroom, leaving Hiragi to wash his hands and grab the towel. He sheds his jacket in your room, hanging it on the doorknob, and even though he’s still fully clothed, he feels naked without the extra layer, not to mention his boots that are next to your front door.

You’re sitting up by your pillows, knees to your chest, voice too fucking meek for Hiragi’s liking when you ask, “do you want me to go put a disc in real quick? I don’t… these are just special underwear to, like, absorb. I don’t—I don’t have anything in right now, so…”

Hiragi stares at you while unfolding the towel, laying it out before motioning to it.

“Like I said before, ain’t gonna bother me. Now get comfortable and take those off.”

“So demanding, geez.”

You sound light-hearted, like you’re joking, but Hiragi sees the way your hands are shaking. You’re nervous. He doesn’t like that.

“Hey,” he stops you once you’ve pulled your underwear down to your thighs, “look at me.”

“If you tell me to call you sir or master or some shit, I’m kicking you out.”

“Shut up for just a second, please, I’m bein’ serious.”

“So am I! Don’t try to get all kinky—”

He grabs your face, pushing your cheeks together so that you’ll stop fucking talking.

“Listen to me.”

“I lish’nen,” you try, and it actually makes him smile.

“If you don’t wanna do this. If you’re not comfortable or if you’re scared or whatever, we don’t have to. I really am just tryin’ to help.” You nod under his hand, and he lets go. “I’m not gonna get grossed out. I’m not gonna judge you for anything, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer with a smirk, and god dammit, it actually makes his cock twitch a little.

“You’re fuckin’ impossible to deal with, ya know that?”

“And yet, here you are doing just that.”

You shimmy out of your underwear and drop them over the side of the bed. It leaves you in nothing but that old T-shirt—Hiragi’s old T-shirt—so thin he can see the peaks of your nipples when you lie back.

He sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to relax, to let your knees fall open, to bare yourself to him. That's not something he’s ever rushed a woman on, and he’s definitely not gonna rush you. You close your eyes, bite your lip, then slowly spread your legs.

Hiragi has to focus on breathing, in and out, in and out, as his gaze land on your pussy. Puffy lips decorated with sticky blood and slick. He’s glad your eyes are closed because he licks his lips at the view. Hiragi could stare all day, but that’s not what he’s here for.

“You ready?” he asks, voice lower than usual.

“Yeah, you can… you can touch me.”

He feels his dick throb at those words, growing even harder when he grazes his fingers over your mound. You gasp, body tensing before relaxing again, like you had to remind yourself that you’re safe here with him.

He slides a finger up your slit, through the wetness, glancing down to note the mixture of blood and arousal before he spreads your folds.

There are so many things he could say at the sight of your twitching hole, so many ways he could praise the pretty pink leaking dark red like some kind of sordid Valentine’s candy that Hiragi wants to devour.

His eyes fall on the little bud at the crest of your lips, cute and begging for attention, and when he circles it with a wet finger, you stifle a moan with your fist.

“You can be loud, it’s your place,” Hiragi tells you, watching your face as he gently rubs over your clit, “plus, I’ll know it feels good if ya keep makin’ noises like that.”

He gives it a little flick that makes your hips buck, and you swear at him.

It doesn’t take long for Hiragi to learn what you like and what you don’t. You like the circles he rubs on your clit. You like when he just barely dips a finger between your folds.

And, you really like it when he slowly slides his middle finger deep into your pussy.

“Ohhmygod…”

Using the thumb on his other hand, Hiragi starts teasing your clit again, pride swelling inside him at the way your eyes roll into the back of your head. Looking down, he watches his finger as it glides in and out of your body, fresh blood coating the digits. A thick string of it stretches from your hole to the towel beneath you, viscous as it mixes with your slick, and Hiragi can’t help but watch until it snaps.

“Fuck, that feels… that feels good.”

“Yeah?” He crooks his finger a bit, searching for that extra-swollen bundle, and when you cry out, he knows he’s found it.

The way you’re moaning and shifting your hips has him worked up, his cock straining against the zipper of his pants, and he wants to relieve some of the pressure so fucking bad, but he definitely doesn’t wannna give you the wrong idea.

“Can you—can you add another finger? I just need—more p-pressure… wanna be full.”

Hiragi groans. He can’t keep it in. And he knows he sounds wounded because it feels like you just shot him. You wanna be full.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he forces out, lining up his index with his middle finger and pushing them both inside you.

You suck them in greedily, needy as you start to chase your climax. Hiragi wets his thumb again, massaging your clit, eyes flicking from your cunt to your face, all your pretty expressions while he stuffs your pussy.

You’re making a mess of yourself and the towel. He can smell iron, which is strange because usually when he smells it, he can feel it in a busted lip or bitten tongue. Usually, when he smells it, he can taste it.

He's gonna cum in his pants if he keeps thinking about that, about shoving his face between your legs and feasting. He’s fantasized about eating you out countless times before, but never like this. Never so desperately. He’s never felt this fucking deranged over it.

“Fuck, please, please, please,” you cry, meeting his fingers on every thrust, trying to take more than he can give with them.

“What? What can I do?”

Hiragi raises to his knees, keeping pace with his fingers and planting his other hand by your head so he can lean over you.

So gorgeous like this—face splotchy, eyelashes wet with unshed tears, lips dark and swollen from the way you’ve been biting them. He has to fight not to kiss you, especially when you’re gazing up at him like this. Wanton. Hungry.

“What do you want?” he breathes. He’s too close to you, face just barely hovering over yours, and he’s sure you can see the lusty fog in his eyes, but you’ve got it too.

You whisper something, and he can feel the ghost of his own name against his lips, but not as clearly as he feels the words “fuck me” that fall from your mouth before you kiss him.

It’s harsh and desperate, teeth and tongues and heavy breathing before he breaks away to unbuckle his belt and free his aching cock.

“Don’t have a condom,” he says before reattaching himself to you, sucking on your bottom lip as he rubs himself over your messy pussy.

“Birth control, remember?” you pant. “S’why we’re here to begin wi—”

Hiragi pushes inside of you with a deep groan, one smooth thrust until he’s bottomed out and you’re clawing at his shirt. Your eyes are rolled back again, mouth barely moving against his like you’re in a daze.

“Feel full now, baby?”

You nod, and Hiragi gives you one more gentle kiss before he starts an even rhythm, his thick cock gliding in and out of you with ease. When his thumb finds your clit again, you moan his name like a plea, over and over again as your body starts to tighten up.

“Ragi, fuck, oh my god…”

Looking down, Hiragi watches your cunt swallow him, coating him in shiny red as a ring of thick white forms at the base of his cock. You’re a fucking mess, creaming all over him as he pushes blood and squirt out of your pussy.

“You gonna cum for me?” he grunts, feeling his balls tighten as his own orgasm builds. “Come on, baby, lemme see how good you feel.”

“So good,” you gasp, “s-so—oh, fuck…”

Your back arches off the bed just before you clamp down around Hiragi. Even if he didn’t want to cum, he wouldn’t be able to stop it, not with the way you milk it out of him—walls so soft and wet as they squeeze him, suck him even deeper as he empties his balls and paints your insides with hot cum.

All he wants to do is collapse on top of you, but he has enough sense to pull out first, causing both of you to hiss, then lets himself fall to the side.

It’s silent for a while, heavy breathing and voices from the TV filtering into your bedroom. Hiragi has the horrifying thought that nothing will ever be the same between the two of you after that.

That was as raw as it fucking gets. That was blood and guts and cum. So much cum.

Then, he feels you grab his hand and squeeze.

“Feel any better?” he asks, voice nothing but gravel.

“I feel a lotta things,” you hum. “Better is one of them.”

“That’s good, yeah?”

“Yeah… but I’m also sad,” you admit with a pout, and Hiragi rolls onto his side to look at you.

“There’s nothin’ to be sad about. You know we’re still good, right? We’re still—”

“It’s not that,” you sigh.

“Then what is it?”

You roll to face him, eyes still a little hazy from your orgasm but all big and shimmering when you look at him.

“Hiragator’s gonna get so lonely now that I have you to fuck the cramps outta me.”

“Oh my fucking god!”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your hands as Hiragi throws a leg over you and pulls you into his chest.

You are the worst—the absolute worst, and he loves everything about you, from the mess between your legs to the curve of your smile against his collarbone. Hiragi loves it all.

#wind breaker smut #hiragi x reader #toma hiragi x reader #winbre x reader #toma hiragi smut #tw periods #tw blood

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nathaslosthershit · 1 year ago

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Baby Fever and Annoying Brothers||Quinn Hughes x Reader

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Reader

Request: Could I get Quinn Hughes with baby fever and his brothers there to make fun of it?

Summary: Quinn gets baby fever real bad and his brothers bug him to propose

A/n: Listen I wasn’t a Quinn girly before but that has recently changed so thank you for these requests

Word Count: 700+

“Quinn, dude, come on let's go.” Luke complained. The brothers had been trying to start a basketball game for the past 45 minutes. Jack and Luke were ready, but Quinn kept pushing it off with a simple ‘5 more minutes then i'll be ready’.

What, you may ask, was keeping Quinn from playing a game with his family? The sight of his girlfriend interacting with the baby of a family friend of theirs. It was quite possibly the most addicting and adorable sight he has ever seen.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, no matter how hard he tried. The whole scene was beautiful. Outside, on the lawn chairs in the backyard, laid his girlfriend of 4 years gently swaying a now sleeping infant in her arms as she quietly spoke to the baby’s mother as well as his own mom.

“Quinn this is getting-” Jack was cut off when he saw it. His older brother sitting there, oblivious to the heart eyes he was making. It was hilarious to him. His big brother practically brought to his knees at the sight of his longtime girlfriend holding a baby.

As he stood next to Luke, Quinn finally was pulled out of his trance. Embarrassed at his brother's gawking, he finally went to play basketball.

But of course the two youngest Hughes couldn’t just not bring it up. It was their brotherly duty to chirp Quinn into his place.

“So when are you gonna actually purpose?” Jack asked. At this, Luke elbowed him in the side, hard.

“Come on dude let him live” Luke reprimanded.

“Thank you, Luke.” Quinn responded.

“No but seriously, he is right. You spend almost an hour staring at your girlfriend for holding a fucking baby. I know you’ve got a bad case of baby fever after that. When are you gonna actually get started on that shit? Unless you don’t plan on going the whole marital route before kids. I don't’ really know how some people would thi-”

“Can you both please just shut the fuck up about it.”

“Come on, Quinn, we are just chirping you. Although we saw the way you were looking at her. You sure that hasn’t changed anything…” Jack teased.

He was right of course. While he was staring, he was also envisioning a life with her. A life with his beautiful wife, in a beautiful home, with kids to fill it. Maybe they’d have one, or maybe a whole hockey team. Who’s to say? The last thing he wanted though, was to be discussing it with his brothers when they would just tease him.

“No, nothing has changed. Although things may happen sooner-” “What the fuck does that mean?” Luke asked.

“I just- I don’t need kids right this second.” Quinn stated.

“But?”

“But I do have a ring. I’ve kept it in my hockey bag for the last few months. I just- I just don’t know when I’m gonna propose.”

“Quinn why the fuck didn’t you tell us?” Jack practically yelled.

“Does mom know? She will flip the fuck out if you got it and didn’t tell her?” Luke asked.

“Yes, she knows. She has been bugging me about it every single day. Trying to give me ideas and such but I just need to find the right time and place.”

“Isn’t now the right time and place though? You are with family, in a pretty fucking beautiful place. I mean what's stopping you from taking her on the boat tomorrow and doing it.” Jack joked. But he was right. You had once stated, while intoxicated, that you would have killed Quinn if he proposed in public, as if that was something he would ever do. The secluded boat would be the perfect place.

Quinn smiled to himself as he came to this revelation. He would propose, soon, and get started on the life he had envisioned. He didn’t answer either of them or tell them about his plans, but one look at his face and his brothers knew. They both shared a look as their absolutely smitten older brother went to grab the ball.

#nhl imagine #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader

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inkpot909 · 11 months ago

Text

How They Text the Reader Headcanons

↳ Characters included are Bruno Brucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, and Guido Mista. Gender Neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.

A/n: I’ve always wanted to try my hand at doing x Reader text messages! This was very fun to make, and I do plan to make more of this kind of headcanon list for the rest of Bucciarati’s team.

Warning(s): None.

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno’s text messages are straight to the point and utilize proper grammar like the mother he truly is deep down.

Not the type of person to send emoji’s… ever, really. This is because he views texting as a simple tool to use when he can’t just speak to you in person or over a phone call.

However, you prefer the funnier explanation of it actually being because he’s secretly very inept at using technology (this is very much so part of it he just won’t ever say so).

In all honesty, he prefers to call you and hear the sound of your voice more than communicating over text. He’s the type to call in order to converse about whatever mundane thing is on his mind instead of sending a text.

That said, he’s definitely the type to always tell you good morning or wish you goodnight with a sweet text message.

Also, because of his job, he’s often put into long-term situations where calling isn’t exactly ideal. That’s when he’ll text the most; he just wants to check up on you regularly when he can’t be there in person do so! This became especially true after rising to the position of Capo.

His text messages may seem… bland to those unfamiliar with him.

But since you know him as well as you do, they always ring as genuine and an extension of his polite kindness.

Admittedly, it is hard to argue against the fact that his straightforward style of text often leads to misunderstandings. This is due to his sometimes unreadable tone:

Leone Abbacchio

Hardly ever texted you at the beginning.

Since the two of you started going out, he’s gotten a bit better, though. Before, he was very adamant that if he has something to say, he’ll wait when he’s face-to-face with you.

But when he eventually let it slip that he often forgets what he even wants to talk to you about, you slowly began getting him to text you more.

Arguably the best method of doing so is to get him to tell you about something he feels strongly about. Whether it’s something positive like asking him about the music he’s been listening to recently, or it’s something more devilish like bringing up subjects that really bother him.

Leone is at least very reliable.

Meaning that, although he doesn’t often start a conversation over text himself, he will respond to you reasonably quick.

Tease him by claiming it’s because he has a soft spot for you and he won’t text for an entire day (you know he loves you).

He also prefers to use proper grammar and punctuation in his texts. That said, Leone does use emojis (usually just to express disappointment) and sometimes can seem more expressive in text than he is in actual conversation.

One sweet thing he does over text is that he always sends you a message after he makes it home after a particularly dangerous mission, informing you that he’s safe. He knows you worry, and although he often puts up a front claiming it’s annoying, he truly does take note of that concern.

Abbacchio’s just not completely used to having someone like you in his life who holds a special concern for him. He is adjusting; slow and steady.

And although he forms the habit of texting you more, it’s you and only you he has the energy to do this for (outside of probably Bruno). This leads to other’s on Bucciarati’s team to text you when they want to get a hold of him:

Guido Mista

Real talkative over text, especially in the evening after he’s finished with his dinner. He’s pretty expressive and uses a decent amount of emojis.

Will plop down on his couch with an exaggerated bounce, pull out his phone, only with the purpose of talking to you and doing nothing else on the device.

The two of you actually had to work on how late you’d stay up texting one another.

Hours disappearing in the blink of an eye and leaving you both extra tired the next morning. And on occasions that it was decided to take the conversation into a call… it’s easy to see why you both have slept in late more than once.

Although not as frequently as someone like Narancia, Mista will send memes every now and then. Not only that, but he always replies to the ones you send him.

He prefers to send you embarrassing or funny pictures of others in the group over memes, though. You’ve seen photos of Abbacchio and Fugo in particular that Mista could honestly use as blackmail.

This has bitten him in the butt quite a bit, though.

After discovering Mista’s been doing this, the others now send you every single unfavorable image they own of the gunslinger. Even Bruno’s sent his fair share.

And although Mista often forgets to say good morning to you through text, he always says goodnight to you.

Not only that, but Mista will text right after he’s completed with a mission. Although a bit of a goofball, he always takes work seriously, and will leave you on delivered on hours at a time depending on what he’s up to. But the minute things have calmed, he’s letting you know.

Mista will certainly ask one of his common out-of-pocket questions designed to get a conversation going via a text message.

This isn’t a bad thing per se, except for the fact that he has a bad habit of doing so at three in the morning.

Even still, they’re not the weirdest variation of texts you’ve ever received from him:

#johnny’s work #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #vento auero #golden wind #bruno bucciarati #bruno bucellati x reader #leone abbacchio #abbacchio x reader #guido mista #mista x reader #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #giorno giovanna #headcanons #fluff #fake texts

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izvmimi · 5 days ago

Text

cw: another wishful ending to bnha. about shigaraki but mostly from izuku's perspective. hint of a future healed!shigaraki x reader.

Izuku is not sure what he should wear for an occasion like this.

Between the grueling, far too hands-on curriculum of becoming a hero, becoming the greatest hero Japan had to offer, and the aftermath of meta war that felt like ages (and probably aged him too), it was all too easy for him to forget that he is, in fact, still a teenager.

And a teenager doesn’t exactly always know what to wear when going to decide the fate of another man’s life.

Despite the fact that he’s pretty sure Hawks doesn’t actually care what he looks like at this point, Inko is kind enough to iron a suit for him and adjust the now shaggy-when-regrown mop of green curls into something professional once he’s dressed. She pats his face, letting her hand rest on the scarred side of his cheek.

“I think it will go well,” she reassures him, even though she can sense that he’s nervous. “You’re doing a good thing.”

Izuku is mostly sure, possibly 99% sure, but the 1% of uncertainty dissipates with his mother’s words. He nods.

“Right.”

—

About 5 months have passed since the culmination of the meta war. Owing to the valiant efforts of the people, with Quirks and without them, the guidance of multiple construction companies (including the Urarakas who have made not shy of hundreds of millions during this time), and heavy political support from local and abroad, the city is mostly rebuilt, to the point that it would be hard to believe that so much was destroyed in such a short time ago in recent history.

Izuku finds his way to the new Hero commission and stops at the front desk to present identification but is quickly passed through with a big smile from the security guard’s face. It’s still hard for him to get used to this treatment, but he remains polite and bows before making his way down to the conference room in the email.

A formal Hero Commission email addressed to around ten people, give or take, and he’s probably the last to arrive of those few, all of them seated at a round table once he arrives. Panicking a bit, he checks the time but before he can look at his phone, Hawks takes a moment to give him a once over and then stifle a laugh at his outfit.

“Now, don’t you look dapper?” he jokes.

Hawks is wearing a fitted suit himself, but he’s now president of the Hero Commission so it’s not out of the ordinary. All Might, offering a pleasant but weary smile next to him, is also dressed up, but he has been a fan of fitted suits in the public eye recently anyway so that’s not strange. Best Jeanist is… well, Best Jeanist… and perfectly coiffed and styled in… denim jeans. Mirio, however, is dressed down in a plaid button down and plain slacks, and bounces up to greet him pulling him to sit by him, Nejire, and Tamaki.

“Nice threads, Izuku!” Mirio cheers, while Nejire pulls at the sleeve and asks him if he bought it at the thrift store. Tamaki stares at a wall, having hit capacity for the number of people in the room.

Izuku wasn’t the last person here because Mirko and Katsuki squabble loudly as they finally enter the room, with Edgeshot in his diminutive form and difficult to see upfront trailing close behind, possibly annoyed (you couldn’t tell from this distance). Mirko is wearing athletic wear and Katsuki is wearing-

A suit.

Katsuki and Izuku lock eyes and the recognition sets in at the same time. His cheeks turn red and then he looks away before shuffling into his seat.

Once everyone has been settled and assistants have brought in coffee and pastries, Hawks finally moves to the first order of business.

A hologram shows in the center of the room with two images - one of Tomura Shigaraki taken as an aerial shot while he was screaming, in the midst of the meta war, and just beside it, an image of Tenko Shimura taken just a few days ago, at a construction site using his Decay quirk for demolition as part of a community service effort, quirk disabling wristlets in full display with the ability to be toggled on and off. The contrasts between these two images are evident - the rage distorting the young man’s features as Shigaraki as he is positioned to destroy and kill, unkempt white hair flowing in the air and a small serenity emanating from the young man’s visage as Tenko as he works to disintegrate rubble and clear land for reconstruction, dark hair cropped short and tousled slightly by fall breeze. If you look closely there is a hint of a smile in the second image, and fear in the eyes of the first.

Two very different men.

“We’re here to discuss our next steps with Shig-, Tenko Shimura.”

All Might lets out a breath no one knew he was holding. Izuku wonders if it’s by All Might’s request that Hawks has used his correct name, perhaps to honor his mentor and Tenko’s grandmother. He makes a mental note to always do the same.

Katsuki keeps his lips pressed into a straight line and doesn’t say a word; Izuku doesn’t blame him, and in another circumstance would have never imagined being willing to sit for this conversation so easily, but he also appreciates that Katsuki is present for this vote at the very least.

“Let’s go through the facts.”

Hawks, pacing around the room, recounts the actions of the man once known as Shigaraki Tomura, as well as delineates what actions are his specifically and what actions were in conjunction with All For One. He shares testimonials from various psychiatrists who have worked with Tenko in this short period of rehabilitation before this discussion and the people who have worked with him on community service. He provides excerpts from social media influencers as well as political and religious opinions.

The case is long and drawn out and by the time he is done, Mirko is yawning loudly and Mirio is trying very hard not to fall asleep. Aizawa, however, is asleep in the corner of the room, having shown up dead last, and not interested in a word being said.

A vote is meant to be cast by the end of today. Izuku wonders if Tenko is on the other side of that door, waiting for his fate to be decided.

If no one can agree to rehabilitate him, he will most likely go to jail, deprived of the ability to use any Quirks possibly for the rest of his life. His best chance is now, as Izuku does not imagine any turnover in power will allow him as much amnesty as the current group here.

Izuku has spent the last few months pleading to the Hero Commission to consider his proposal, using the very fact that Tenko relinquished his OFA-related Quirks back to him almost immediately as a perfect example.

Tenko did give his inner child a second chance, and Tenko did fight back. He just needed help.

“All motions to go forth with a continued rehabilitation plan, please say-”

Mirko raises her hand immediately, interrupting.

“Aye.”

Placing both her feet on the edge of the table, she defends herself before anyone can ask.

“If he tries some shit again, I get a rematch,” she says, grinning. All Might gives her a pleased look but says nothing.

Aizawa chimes in from inside his sleeping bag.

“Aye.”

While Izuku’s eyes widen, Katsuki finally interjects.

“Have you guys forgotten this man killed me?”

“And lifted you up with his toes.” Mirko adds. “But you lived, didn’t you, pipsqueak?” she says, grinning.

Best Jeanist, not at all pleased by the joke, raises his hand.

“Nay. This is a ridiculous idea.”

“What’s ridiculous is your outfits but we don’t-”

All Might clears his throat. “Aye.”

Endeavor takes a look at All Might, crossing his arms over his chest. His retirement is still hot off the presses, and he chooses to take a step back here too.

“Abstain.”

Izuku’s heart is racing and he’s not exactly sure why. Part of this waiting period involves Izuku keeping an eye on Tenko and in repeated conversations, he has always gotten the sense that Tenko could change but his hope had been tempered. The truth was, as much as he wanted to save Tenko, a small part of him was still a little angry for the harm he did, and he imagined that if he felt that way, it was only a fraction of what the public and his peers must feel.

But today, there seems to be a chance.

“Aye!” Mirio and Nejire say in unison and Tamaki quickly follows up.

Katsuki rises suddenly and leaves the room and while Izuku wants to follow him, he knows that it’s a waste of time.

That’s a problem for days to come.

“And why exactly are we forgiving him?” Best Jeanist asks, as he rises himself to go after his student.

“Because we don’t plan to leave anyone behind,” Edgeshot finally admits. Best Jeanist shakes his head.

“It stays Nay for me but it’s your responsibility.”

He files out of the room, but Hawks’ smile isn’t deterred, knowing he’ll come around.

The majority chooses hope.

—

Four and a half years have passed since that vote.

Izuku watches his friend, a girl from the support class a year above him who isn’t Hatsume but just as good in her own realm, fiddle with tracking devices and quirk-neutralizing wristlets attached to the first iteration of Entropy’s Hero suit. Entropy’s hero costume doesn’t include a mask, but Izuku has an inkling that no one will recognize him prior to his debut as the man who almost laid waste to the entire country. There is something about a person’s soul that can permeate a vessel, it’s a reminder that beauty is only skin deep, but goodness will shine through no matter what one looks like.

Tenko is however somewhat handsome in the way that his Hero grandmother was beautiful and that helps. Wavy, dark hair frames his face to a shoulder length, and his dark eyes are actually warm now that he’s had time to shed off most of the loneliness. He’s filled out slightly with better food and less angst, which is another thing that is sure to make him more appealing to the masses.

Izuku can still sense the trepidation however in the slight tremble of Tenko’s fingertips as he holds them out for the support engineer to readjust the gloves, and wonders if he’s projecting.

Part of the arrangement for Entropy’s debut is for Deku and Entropy to work as partners for at least a year to satisfy the civilians who still don’t trust him (with good reason) as a contingency plan in case Tenko changes his mind about being a productive member of society and needs someone to stop him a second time.

Izuku is pretty sure he won’t fall back into that dark place again by now, even if a select few will never, ever forgive him. Even Katsuki still grumbles, but agrees that Izuku might be right.

“I feel like a leashed dog still,” Tenko finally pipes up as the engineer adjusts the literal silver collar on his neck. It’s meant to be a joke but it’s not exactly false. Izuku offers him a small consoling smile.

“It makes the commission happy, so bear with it, I guess.” Izuku says. It’s a lame response, he admits, but it’s all he has to offer.

Between the emergency shock collar that’s stylized to appear as part of the prototype suit, a physical tracker, and internal restraints, there are a lot of things to stop Tenko from becoming Tomura again, but at least the adjustment of all of these in the homey atmosphere of Izuku’s apartment feels less like house arrest.

Izuku’s girlfriend peers in from time to time from where she’s holed up studying for clinical examinations to check on their progress, a steaming mug in her hand. The girls wave at each other before she disappears again and locks the door, loud music with heavy bass playing from her computer speakers.

It’s a miracle she’s not afraid of Tenko given Tomura almost killed her during the meta war too, but Izuku understands that this is a testament to how much she trusts his judgment.

“Thank you for doing this,” he says finally to his friend. She practically beams.

“I’m just giving you the ‘your future wife is my bestie’ discount.”

Izuku goes red at the ears and Tenko stifles a laugh. She turns and gives him a look and he immediately looks away, somewhat startled by how quickly she gets into his face.

“It is however a really big favor, I just worry you’ll be somewhat accountable if something goes wrong, too.”

Tenko frowns. “I’m right here, you know,” he murmurs. He pauses before he uses her professional name, which turns out to not be so professional at all. “... Sparkles.”

Sparkles doesn’t hear him, the jitteriness of three days of no sleep in the setting of piled up audits at her security technologies company getting to her. “Just don’t forget to get me the paperwork, Izuku.”

She then turns her attention back to Tenko finally as Izuku searches for a pen in a basket under the coffee table.

Tenko again, possibly too affected by how quickly, she moves, seems to stand up a little straighter as she sizes him up.

“Are you planning on hurting anyone?”

Sparkles hadn’t realized Izuku’s girlfriend had left the room again to grab more sugar for her tea.

“If he says yes, what exactly are you gonna do, babe?” she hollers, disappearing again before waiting for the answer. Izuku chuckles.

“I’d ask him if he meant it,” she yells back. She turns to him again, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Do you mean it? Are you planning on hurting anyone?”

Tenko tenses up and Izuku tries not to laugh, wondering if he should leave Tenko to Sparkles’ charms or allow him to rest.

Regardless, he has great aspiration for the world’s former greatest villain’s future, yet.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #daydreams: bnha #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #mimi's notes

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